Dream On
by Semper Tardius
Summary: Allen Walker has been reborn into the modern world. He is protected by his family and raised in ignorance of the War. However, he still has a part to play, as do his family members. There is still a war to be won, and in this life music is their gift. What better way to end a war than to go out on a television show for bands? Sequel to LHFL. Lavi Route.
1. Chapter 1

**I hope you all will forgive me for rewriting this. The main plot will be the same, but the details will be different. I hope it is a better different, because I would hate to disappoint everyone, especially after making you wait so long for another chapter of Fate Screwed Me Over. This series will only be eleven chapters long, and there may be a lot of variability in length to stay within the parameters. I do, however, promise that these chapters will not be short. Since this is a music/song based fanfiction, I thought I should include more of that aspect in this. Every chapter will be named after an actual song. This song will also be featured in the chapter.**

 **There will also be a Yullen version of this as well.**

 **Chapter One**

 **Prayer Song**

 **Utopia, September 8, 20XX**

A young man sat his desk, his hand on top of an old, worn journal. It held the secrets of someone many years younger than him, someone with a heart of an angel, and an exterior hardened in the forges of war. He had died too soon, and the young man was only too aware now that the world might have been a better place had the youth been allowed to live long enough to spread his view of good and evil.

The current owner of the journal caressed the top of the journal, feeling regret and guilt like lead in his stomach, pulling his heart down with it by a barbed wire. Years had passed since then, and he realized that his hatred had been both irrational and unfounded. Whatever reasons he had in the past to hate the deceased youth must have been foolish indeed if he could no longer remember them. Such a thing made the young man loathe himself even more. He hoped that in this lifetime he could mend his mistake, or even redeem himself, though he did not dare hope for the latter, because he did not deserve it.

" _The sound of your voice_

 _Is different than mine_

 _But they harmonize so beautifully_

 _When we sing with our eyes to the sky_ ," the young man sang to himself softly. He thought of the white-haired boy whom he had condemned to death all of those years ago. He was filled with a fathomless longing to see the youth, to take his hands in his own and beg forgiveness, to make it known that he regretted all and would never again do something so heinous.

::

 **London, September 8, 20XX**

A red-headed man sat outside his home, cigarette smoke wafting from his lips as he blew out his sweet addiction. He could hear the sounds of heavy breathing inside his house. It was the sound of a child deep asleep, walking in the land of dreams. The man was suddenly touched by the uncharacteristic desire to go into his ward's room to check on the boy while he slept. Considering their history, he supposed it was unsurprising. Still, the red-head did not like feeling _soft_. Softness gave one vulnerability, and at the present he could not afford to have vulnerability. No, not at the apex of a three-hundred-year-old prophecy. The man mentally admitted that rather than _prophecy_ , it would be more accurate to call the impending event a _curse_. Regardless of semantics, this man made his own decisions and he decided not to give in to his suddenly vocal parental instinct.

The man jabbed the butt of his cigarette into the brick wall of his home. He hoped that this time around things would not end in a tragedy. He deserved a happy ending after the shit he had gone through, and so did his ward. Unfortunately, a happy ending could not be promised. The price of a second chance means that nothing is clear. A second chance is full of hope for the better.

His phone began to ring. The man contemplated ignoring it, since he loved to annoy others. Nothing seemed to annoy people more than their inability to get into contact with him. However, his (rather miniscule) sense of responsibility reminded him that he had a part in war to play. A role he did not dare avoid. A role he did not dare refuse for fear that it might cost him his ward's life. With heavy reluctance, the red-head slid his phone out of his pocket and hit the green phone on his screen. He put it to his ear.

"Hello?" he answered. There was a pause on the other end.

"I must admit, I did not expect you to _answer_ ," the caller confessed bluntly.

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"I will be brief then," the person on the other end replied crisply. "It's time. The members of the Black Order are congregating. Some have even regained their memories _."_

The red-head glanced at the window above his head, listening for the sounds of an oblivious, sleeping child. When he was certain his ward was still asleep, he returned his attention to the phone.

"When do I leave?" he asked.

"As soon as you can," the other answered. "I can make the arrangements for you. We are in a good position to protect him."

The man had no doubt about that. His superior was controlling man with a highly protective (and possessive) personality.

"I will be ready to infiltrate the Black Order in a week," he said at last. He still did not feel comfortable with the prospect of leaving the boy he had (almost) single-handedly raised, protected or not. "Please…keep him safe."

"That I can promise."

" _When the sun shows itself after the rain_

 _It stretches a rainbow across the sky_

 _Some days may still be cloudy, and yet_

 _We can all bring our prayers together."_

"Your boy is using magic again," the red-head told his ally, sighing through his nose.

"He is feeling nostalgic," came the reply. "Never underestimate the power of song. Especially a song sung from the heart."

::

 **Utopia, September 8, 20XX**

A man lathered the sweat away in the gym showers. His body felt loose and deliciously tired from his workout. Recently he had added a new fighting style to his old one, and he was satisfied with the results of the addition.

Th man closed his eyes, and leaned his head against the cool tiles. A memory of silver eyes arose in his quiet mind, a faint memory muddled by time and the waters of rebirth. And yet those eyes continued to make his heart ache so terribly. Like old scars and mended bones that ached come winter.

His hand rose, clutching at the birthmark over his heart. The mark of the price he paid, proof that he had a second chance to protect what h cared about. He was not going to fail this time, nor was he going to let anyone else he cared about die under his watchful eye this time. He feared neither pain nor death. He was willing to shoulder both for the sake of that sad soul in his faded memory.

A phone rang, the sharp sound echoing in the shower room. The man sighed in annoyance, then turning off water and haphazardly threw a towel around his waist. He snatched up the cell phone sitting on a bench next to his shower stall. He put his phone on speaker so he could talk while getting dressed.

"You're on speaker," he grunted. He expected to hear pleasantries. He was surprised to be told, very straightforwardly, what the purpose of this call was.

"It's time."

The man froze, hands on his jeans. He looked down at the phone. His mind processed the implications of that single statement. A smile ghosted across his lips.

"Are we expecting a battle to end the war?" he asked, pulling on the jeans. His heart tingled with excitement and the warmth of hope.

"It is very likely. Are you prepared?" the older man on the other end asked.

"Always," was the sure reply. He frowned as he heard something. A song in the air.

" _In the skies of tomorrow_

 _We'll see the bonds that we share_

 _In colors so deep, so strong_

 _That it dazzles the eye."_

"That idiot is feeling lonely again," the man in the shower room told his superior. "He's singing to everyone again."

"Yes, I know. I will talk to him once I am done."

::

 **Utopia, September 8, 20XX**

The young man with an eyepatch could see the youth in his mind's eye. A sweet boy with bright silver eyes, a lovely smile. In his mind's eye, this youth was asleep, safe in his warm bed. It made the immortal's heart yearn, wishing this vision to be a true one. He continued to stroke the worn antique journal, too caught up in what he was imagining that he did not notice his lips moving or the song spilling from them. Nor did he know that his voice was being carried to those on his mind.

" _The song that I sing for you_

 _Overflows with my feelings_

' _May you find peace with your life'_

 _That is the message I send."_

His song went to a many people, though it was meant for one person in particular. This boy dreamed of a normal dream, and knew nothing of the tragedy from his previous life. The boy did not hear the song, for he was both asleep and oblivious to magic, but nonetheless his soul heard the song and it made feelings blossom within his breast. These emotions would be impressed when he awoke, along with the song.

The red-head's pocket buzzed, and the seemingly young man slipped his phone out of his pocket.

Cross is making his move. Be prepared. Allen is coming.

He gripped his phone tightly, drawing in a shaky breath. His chance for redemption had at last come. A chance to earn forgiveness. More importantly, it was another chance to protect someone he had previously condemned, an opportunity to do the right thing.

Roger, he texted back. Almost immediately he received a response.

You were singing. Again.

He bit his lip, feeling guilty and embarrassed. His phone buzzed again and a new message below the previous popped up.

Poor Allen will have an awful ear worm.

::

 **London, September 9, 20XX**

" _Sometimes a cold wind may blow on your back_

 _And the portals of spring scatter the wind_

 _But trust that someone will come along_

 _To put a warm around you—"_

"What are you singing?" Narain asked Allen. He slipped his hand into Allen's, gently swinging their arms together. They were both upset and trying to ignore the fact that this was their last date. In the past few months, the two had grown apart. The romantic spark between them had fizzled out, due to several things. Narain wanted to go to medical school, and his family would be sending him away for the best school they could afford—Allen was never in the same area constantly, due to his guardian's wanderlust. Narain and Allen still remained best friends, and they undoubtedly loved each other, likely always would, but their relationship was not possible. It would become unhealthy and unfair for them to keep it. They amicably broke up, and decided to have one last date.

Allen, having been caught singing without knowing, felt embarrassed. He tried his best not to let others hear him. He liked his privacy, trusted few people—he had lived a rough childhood, after all, before Mana had found him. Living with Cross could have been more terrible, but life still wasn't always easy, and Allen found it difficult to be himself around people, and he trusted even fewer. For him, Allen felt open when he sang. If he sang, he sang with his heart, and bared it to the world (or whoever was listening). He did not like having such vulnerability, and so he did not often sing outside of his own company or Cross's. Even with Narain, he rarely sang.

"It's just a song stuck in my head," he answered, though where it came from, he had no idea. He had woken up, and the lyrics had been there, along with the tune and strange emotions swelling to the brim.

"It's pretty," Narain complimented him. Allen smiled back at him, continuing his song more comfortably, as a 'thank you'. Together they walked through the park, empty due to the sun having set over an hour ago. At las they came to the destination thy had in mind for their last date. It was a hill, slightly higher than the trees, with a wonderful view of an open sky. Narain and Allen walked up the hill at their leisure, the former releasing his boyfriend's hand to spread out a blanket on the ground. From the pack, Allen also pulled out two bottles of cream soda. They plopped down together, opening the bottles with extravagant flourish. The tapped the glass together I a toast to what they had, what they were, and what they would always be. Together they reclined and lounged, pointing at the stars and telling stories about how the constellations came to be. Deeper into the night, after they had run out of stories they knew, they began to make new ones.

"There was once a young man who lived in a castle," Narain said gravely, pointing to a random cluster that looked vaguely tower-shaped. "All loved him, and the heavens parted to make a place for him to escape daily boredom—"

And on his tale went, both long and ridiculous, making Allen smile and chuckle. Then it was Allen's turn to tell a story.

Allen looked at the night sky, gazing upon the numerous stars, too many to count, and let his mind wander. He could see shape in the stars, the form of a broad back, arms wielding a hammer as if striking out towards a foe. He smiled, not recognizing the bittersweet emotion lingering as an ache in his heart.

"Once, there was a brave man who fought in a hopeless war. He was a great warrior, and used a hammer to strike down his enemies. He was good, and strong, and everyone loved him," Allen began. He was lost in imagination, the story so vivid in his mind he could almost see it, almost feel it. "One of his comrades loved him too, though he loved him as something more than a comrade in arms. Every day, he would watch this hero with a painful longing in his chest, aching for something that would never be. This hero had a sweetheart he cared for more than the world, and the comrade wanted nothing more for than man to be happy, so he watched them from afar.

"It was sad, but over time the hero came to hate the comrade who loved him. He hated him so much that one day the comrade confided in him a secret. The hero was spiteful, and told everyone this secret. The comrade was imprisoned, and executed."

Allen felt dampness at his eyes, and in confusion he wiped them away, quickly making up an end to the story. He felt Narain's surprised eyes on him, but he ignored it.

"The hero died of old age, gaining his happy ending, and he was placed in the stars for all eternity. But for the sin he committed against one who loved him, the hero was forced to stay frozen above for all eternity," Allen ended.

"What became of the comrade who loved the hero?" Narain asked Allen softly. The boy with white hair frowned, confused by the question.

"He died," Allen answered simply.

"Death is not always an end," Narain pointed out. "Perhaps the heavens took pity and allowed him to be reborn, and he found happiness."

"Maybe," Allen said skeptically. He then realized that his eyelids were heavy and he felt tired. He glanced up at the moon's position and saw that the sun would be rising in only an hour or two. Allen felt a little worried, since he had told Cross he would be back around midnight. Unfortunately, he had also forgotten his phone in Narain's car, and therefore he (probably) had at least fifty texts and/or calls from a worried guardian. Who would more than likely use him for target practice after he returned home safe and sound.

"It's about time for us to leave," Allen told Narain. He saw a shadow pass over his best friend's face, and an answering sadness to his own. The other boy reached out to cup Allen's cheeks. He pressed his lips against Allen's. Allen turned his head away, unable to kiss someone he was breaking up with.

"Narain…"

His best friend pulled back slightly, then gently leaned his forehead against Allen's.

"You always give me happiness, and sing for me," Narain told him. "I'm no good at signing, but if you let me, I want to return the favor."

Allen waited for a moment, then nodded his consent. Narain wrapped his arms loosely around Allen's waist and gently began to move them into a formless dance from side to side.

" _Go on and close the curtains,"_ Narain began, his voice shaky, but sweet. It made Allen both smile and cry. Narain was singing the song they had heard on their first date together. " _'Cause all we need is candle light,_

 _You and me, and a bottle of wine_

 _To hold you tonight."_

Narain wiped away Allen's tears, even though he looked like he wanted to cry himself. He took Allen's hand in his own, and put the free arm around Allen's so they could dance a modified waltz. Allen chuckled despite the tears.

" _There's a log, in the fire_

 _And it burns, like me for you_

 _Tomorrow comes, with one desire_

 _To take me away…"_

Allen joined in Narain's song, wondering rather grimly why their song happened to be a perfect song for their break up as well.

" _Save tonight, and fight the break of dawn_

 _Come tomorrow, tomorrow I'll be gone_

 _Save tonight, and fight the break of dawn_

 _Come tomorrow, tomorrow I'll be gone."_

They danced until the sun began to color the sky, and then they returned to their blanket and held one another to watch their last sunrise together. Neither one had wanted the night to end, and yet even their love could not stop the night from falling away, nor the sun from climbing into a new day. As they say, all good things must come to an end. Allen lingered as long as he could, but Cross finally found them, using the GPS in his cellphone. He chewed both of them out, and while it was not a fun experience, it was worth it.

::

Allen was utterly exhausted when Cross finally took him home. His guardian was still pissed, but he seemed more relieved than anything else. As punishment, he was not allowed to go to sleep until Cross did (meaning eleven at the earliest, and three in the morning at the latest). Allen admitted he had certainly pushed his luck too far and agreed to the man's terms. He was rather surprised when they returned home and Cross immediately set him to work packing things away. Carboard boxes had already been bought, along with tape and a box cutter.

"Are we moving again?" Allen asked in alarm. He saw his guardian was stressed enough to have stuck a cigarette in his mouth (though it remained unlit because he kept Allen's health away from his habit).

"We are. Pack your things into the duffle bags, no more than two. You may as well take a backpack as well, for you will be going to a school," Cross informed him. He gestured to the goods around them. They were not pretty nor expensive, but in the past months, they had really made this place feel like home. Allen was a little sad to know that they were leaving. "We will pack up the other things and sell them off."

Allen knew better than to ask the reason of why they were moving. Cross always moved, for various reasons. Usually it was due to money problems. Allen assumed that their luck had finally run out.

"Where are we going?" Allen asked Cross, moving to begin setting the dishes from the kitchen into a box.

"The United States. I have some relatives there that are willing to provide some housing," Cross replied.

"You have relatives?" Allen asked, frowning. He had never heard about Cross's relatives before.

"Actually, they are your relatives," Cross amended, rolling his sleeves up so he could also get to work. He glanced at Allen and sawt that the boy had frozen, and was staring at him. "What?"

" _I_ have relatives? Why haven't I heard about them before?"

"I may or may not have manipulated the law for custody over you," Cross admitted. Allen wasn't really surprised by that, though he questioned why Cross would want to raise a child. He wasn't an affectionate or paternal man. Allen wouldn't doubt that he was even being held for ransom, though he admitted it was a little extreme for Cross. "I have to go undercover for a while, so they will be taking care of you while I'm gone."

"You can't just leave me," Allen protested. He felt fear and unease rolling in his stomach at the thought of his guardian, someone he trusted more than anyone else in the world, abandoning him to some strangers.

"You will be safe," Cross promised, stopping to look Allen in the eye so that his ward knew he wasn't being cruel or abandoning him. "They would protect you with their lives, and they already love you."

Allen did not look convinced, so Cross added, "They are also rich enough to feed your bottomless pit of a stomach."

Allen decided that was the real reason Cross had taken him in after Mana. He was using him to get money from his rich relatives. And now, he was probably using him to extort _more_ money from them.

Actually, Allen knew that probably wasn't true. Still, it was the best theory he had so far. And he was feeling particularly vindictive towards his guardian and wanted to think the worst of that man.

"I'm going to pack my belongings," Allen said at last. He needed time to process their conversation, the revelation of his relatives' existence, and the fact they were moving again. All of this right after his break up with Narain.

"Before you go, I have a question," Cross said, stopping him. Allen waited. "Did you lose you v-card with Narain? Because I never took you for an exhibition—"

Allen left his guardian without a word, and slammed the door behind himself.

::

 **Utopia, September 12, 20XX**

" _No one can stand being all alone_

 _But you don't have to bear it all_

 _As long as your voice blends together with mine_

 _I'll follow wherever you go."_

"What are you singing?" Cross asked, drawing Allen from his mind. Allen was still upset with his guardian and did not really want to have an in-depth conversation with him. On the other hand, it was both rude and disrespectful to ignore the question.

"I was thinking about the people who settled in America in the early days," Allen said at last, staring out the window, his eyes focused on the scenery. It was pretty. Not like England, but then he didn't expect it to look like England. "It must have been hard to settle in a place so unknown. I can't even imagine what it might have been like for them."

Cross glanced at him, thinking of the lyrics of the song. They seemed appropriate.

"At least we didn't go to Massachusetts," Allen said under his breath. His words startled Cross.

"What do you mean?" his guardian asked. The boy shrugged.

"I've always thought of Massachusetts as harsh place," he said at last, without giving any more explanation. Cross was silent, taking his words, and knowing the reason why Allen did not want to go near Massachusetts.

In silence, Cross drove for another twenty minutes. They were on the outskirts of a town named Utopia, for Allen's relatives lived in the countryside. Allen hadn't been told much about them. He only knew that they led private lives, owned a large house and a lot of land, and that they were considered somewhat eccentric.

Allen saw the house in the distance, a mere smudge. He had been daydreaming, his mind lulled towards ideas of melodies and lyrics in his head. Allen barely gave it any acknowledgement and continued his thoughts about the odd song suck in his head. Then they drew closer, and the smudge became an identifiable shape. Allen's attention was caught and he was in awe of the house they drove towards. No, it was not quite a house, but a manor. A very beautiful and elegant manor with columns in the front, and what appeared to be an observatory.

"Is that—" Allen couldn't even finish his sentence, because they pulled off of the highways onto a private road and drove directly towards the opulent manor. He stared at it unabashedly, taking in all of the wonderful details as they drew closer. It stood three stories high, two stories filled with windows, and the third dedicated to the observatory on top. Above the front door lay a balcony. A simple, pretty garden led up the steps.

"I told you, your relatives are rich," said Cross. He pulled into the circle leading to the front door.

"Why aren't they the ones raising me?" Allen asked, in awe of the beautiful place they were stopping in front of. Cross threw the car into park and pulled the lever to open the trunk. Cross gave him a dark look, and he added, "Not that I'm unsatisfied with you as my guardian."

"When the opportunity arose, you were already attached to me," he answered. "I've kept them informed about you over the years, and they help me pay for your food."

Well, Allen had always wondered how Cross had managed to feed his ferocious appetite while somehow managing to have a debt larger than the square footage of Asia.

They both disembarked from the car rental. Cross took out Allen's two duffle bags—he threw the heavier one at the boy, who caught it with a glare—he shouldered the keyboard and gave the other bag to Allen once he had a proper hold of it.

"I would have brought the backpack instead of the keyboard," Cross remarked.

"Well, I'm not you," Allen replied smartly. He followed his guardian up the front steps of the manor. He admired the pretty wooden planks of the porch, looking up high towards the tops of the columns. The simplicity made it very elegant, and Allen wondered if this was not a movie set or something of similar class. It looked too perfect to be real.

He heard a sudden _thud thud thud_ , and was appalled to see Cross knocking on the door with the toe of his boot.

"Isn't that too rude?" he asked. His question was ignored in favor of more kicking. By the time the door was opened, there were several scuff marks at the bottom of the wood.

"Honestly Cross, could you be anymore uncivilized Your manners have degraded over the years," the man who answered the door chastised. Allen studied him closely, wondering if they were relatives. He didn't look familiar. Considering he was the one who opened the door, and his relatives' apparent wealth, he supposed this could be a servant. Allen scrutinized him closer and decided he did not look the part. He was likely a relative of Mana, for that shared the same air of class and propriety. He was also of a fair complexion, and enviously perfect skin. Allen was even more jealous to note that the tone of the man's skin hinted that he probably did not burn, but tan. Even more unfairly, his features were attractive, his dark hair thick and wavy, pulled into a stylish ponytail. He looked well-bred and high-class.

"Like I care," Cross replied shortly. He nudged Allen forward. The stranger's gaze fell onto the boy, taking in the odd appearance of Allen Walker without looking derisive. Such openness unnerved Allen and he found himself stepping back slightly. His back met the palm of the very hand that had propelled him forward the first time. "This is my ward, Allen Walker."

The stranger held out his hand. Allen hesitantly shook it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Sheryl. Welcome to my home," the man said sincerely.

"Thank you," Allen replied politely, uncertain of what to do next. Luckily Sheryl moved aside and beckoned them inwards. Cross and Allen crossed the threshold as they followed Sheryl inside the house—manor.

Allen looked around inside. It was even nicer than the manor looked from the outside. The floors were a dark polished wood. The walls were paneled with a light wood, and wallpaper reminiscent of the sky. Everything was decorated tastefully and carefully. Allen did not usually like such places because they did not usually feel lived-in, but even he could appreciate this place. He liked the open, bright feeling of this floor. It felt refreshing, and crisp.

Sheryl led them through the atrium, to the right. Firstly, Allen was shocked to find himself in (what he assumed to be) a parlor. He had never been in one before. Secondly, he was surprised to see that the room had an occupant. He was older than Sheryl by five to ten years. His dark hair was swept back, scruffy stubble untamed above his lip and along his jaw. He looked different than Sheryl, but something about the way he held himself seemed proper, noble. The man's eyes were as dark as his hair, but oh they were expressive. In an instant, Allen's voice caught in his throat, realizing that this man was an unkempt version of his adoptive father, Mana. But that wasn't right, Mana had died years ago in a fire. So then this was Mana's brother?

Allen stared at the man, who sat sipping a steaming cup of tea. The moment their eyes met, the boy's breath caught and his fingers loosened. His luggage slipped through his fingers and hit the ground hard.

 _Is this fear? Happiness? Nostalgia?_ Allen wondered. He felt a dampness burning his eyes, a tear running down his cheek. Through blurry eyes, he saw the stranger smiling gently at him. Allen quickly collected himself and swiped a hand across his face. He decided it was merely the similarity in appearance to Mana that made him cry.

"Allen. It is wonderful to finally see you in person. I hope that I did not frighten you."

"No, it's just you look like…" Allen trailed off. He wasn't sure if he should mention Mana or not, or if he could even attribute the tears to Mana. But the man seemed to understand, and his smile warmed even more.

"I apologize for causing you pain." He gestured to the seats, asking if Allen was alright joining him. Two cups and saucers sat before the man, already filled. Sheryl took Allen's luggage, and his keyboard. He left the three of them alone in the parlor.

Allen stood there, trying to decide whether or not he should speak or sit. He glanced at his guardian and saw gleam of impatience in the man's face. It was a warning that, if Allen did not act quickly enough, Cross had no qualms using his elbow to move him into action. And generally, if Cross elbowed someone, it was quite hard. With that incentive in mind, Allen took the seat by the window. Cross took the other free one.

"Welcome to Noah Manor. This is Sheryl's home, although our entire family lives beneath this roof. It is usually not a quiet place, but I hope you will grow to love it like home," the unnamed man said to Allen, his manner and eyes friendly. "It may be large, and seem too luxurious to live in, but it is still our home."

"How long will I be staying here?" Allen asked. He did not look forward to spending any great length of time without his guardian. The man's eyes met Cross's, concern flickering in them.

"We do not know," Cross admitted. "It may be a year or longer."

"A _year_?" Allen had never lived anywhere for a year, let alone without Cross.

"Hopefully, after six months, Marian will join us," the stranger amended soothingly. "He will not be separate from you for too long."

Allen looked at Cross, feeling genuine fear for the man. He wondered what the man had gotten himself entangled in. It must have been very serious and extremely dangerous. The longest Cross had ever left him with someone was two weeks. For Cross to go under cover was serious enough—to be left with a stranger for a minimum of six months spoke of something even more frightening.

"What are you involved in?" he asked in a low, fearful voice. On the wall, the _ticking_ of the clock echoed ominously through the room.

::

"You are Tyki's neighbor," Earl, as he had been introduced in the parlor, told Allen. "He is the comparatively normal member of our family. He is also fairly quiet and friendly."

Allen surveyed his room, trying to soothe the irritation and worry caused by Cross during their conversation and their farewell. His bed was queen-sized, clad in boring white pillows, sheets, and duvet. At the foot sat his keyboard and the duffle bags. The walls were equally white and tasteless, like the flowing curtains that framed his window. He was a little hurt that the manor was so elegantly decorated, yet his room was so devoid of any décor or personality. He did not voice this aloud, however. His room was a decent size, after all, and the furniture nice. It was all of the same dark wood. His bed looked like he could hang curtains around it, there were two nightstands by each side of the bed, and an armoire next to a door he assumed to lead to his own bathroom. Décor aside, Allen was really happy with his accommodation.

"I apologize. We did not decorate your room, since we used it for unexpected guests," Earl explained apologetically. Allen nodded wordlessly, feeling a little better. "We will buy you some things to decorate your room with this weekend, alright?"

The boy's head snapped around in disbelief. "Why would you do that?"

"You are family," the man answered matter-of-factly. "You ought to have a room of your own, one you feel comfortable in."

Earl went over to the armoire and opened it. Inside a few outfits (they looked an awful lot like uniforms) hung.

"Your school's uniform has already been bought, and they are inside here. You have a few days to unpack and settle in. On Wednesday we will take you to school with the others," Earl told him.

"Others?" Allen asked curiously.

"Yes, there are four family members who are about your age living here. A family friend is also staying here with his grandson in this house. I believe he is only a year or two older than you," Earl explained. "I am certain you will get along with at least one of them. The twins, however, are an acquired tasted."

Allen wasn't sure how he felt about that last remark. He wasn't used to having relatives around his age, nor going to school with them. Did Earl's statement mean the twins might ignore him? Bully him? The boy had no idea what to expect.

"I'll leave you alone to unpack. Feel free to explore once you finish. Dinner will be in three hours. It's family night," he added. "We all eat together at one big table."

"I eat a lot," Allen warned him. Earl's gaze was warm and understanding. The boy recalled Cross's earlier remark about his relative's helping pay for his food. If Earl's expression was anything to go by, then they were used to it, and did in fact have an idea about the monstrous amounts of food he ate.

"I know. The cook has already been informed. Eat to your heart's content while you are here, Allen." After the boy thanked him, Earl left. With a sigh, Allen set to work unpacking. His bags mostly held clothes and shoes—he put those in the armoire. Then he took out two picture frames: one picture of Cross carrying a little Allen on his shoulders, their backs to the camera. Allen had turned slightly to stick his tongue out at the photographer, so a part of his face visible. The second photograph was the crooked selfie he and Narain had taken during one of their early outings as friends. Allen set one frame on each nightstand. His last possessions consisted of a rarely-used-moleskin journal, a worn edition of Shakespeare's works, and a small photo album filled with memories of him and Cross over the years. Allen put them all in the nightstand drawer.

He set his keyboard up in the corner of his room, next to an outlet. He decided to ask for a chair borrow later. He slipped music sheets out from the carrying case and slid it into the empty nightstand drawer. Much to his dismay, Allen realized he had left his pack of cards somewhere at the airport.

Lastly, he put away the keyboard's case and the duffle bags. He shoved those under his bed. Then he peeked into the bathroom, disappointed, though unsurprised, to find it was as boring as his room. There were towels, and toiletries inside already, though, so he was pleased about that.

Allen decided to plop onto the bed for bit to stretch out his stiff body. He was tired from the flight, and his body ached to stretch out after the long flight and the long car drive back to back. As he lay on his back, upper body dangling slightly off of the edge of the bed, his mind wandered to his guardian.

 _What are you involved in?_ he had asked his infuriating guardian.

And of course, Cross answered,

 _The Mafia. What else?_

Allen knew a lie when he heard one, and Cross had been lying. He had been pissed in the parlor and refused to talk to the man until the time of their separation came. While saying a farewell, Cross _hugged_ him. Cross only hugged Allen like that when he was afraid they would not meet again. Cross had only done that three times before. One time, Allen had even thought Cross had died, when news of his body being found came (of course, it turned out the man had faked his own death, and neglected to tell Allen).

"Stupid guardian," Allen muttered.

::

 _The chess board was set. Everyone was in position. A war, frozen for centuries, was about to begin again. A war that had previously forced hearts and souls to curse one another with over a thousand sleepless nights and haunted hours of wakefulness._

 _Exorcists versus Noahs, as it has always been. Only this time, one side will win in an epic battling the world will never forget._

::

" _How do you feel about the last season of this show?" the reporter asked one of the judges. The woman wore a huge grin on her face._

" _It's sad to say goodbye," she admitted, "but I really think that his year will be the best year we have ever had."_

" _It will be an epic season," her fellow judge agreed._

::

 _It was the last season of_ _ **Crowd Surfing**_ _, it was the most unforgettable, epic season of them all. It was a season full of love, friendship, drama, and, of course, great music._

::

 _This is how a seven-thousand-year war ended._

::

What a bunch of hippie—dippie _baloney_

 **Thank you for the first Chapter. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I couldn't help use a line from** _ **The Lego Movie**_ **as the last line of this chapter.**

 **For songs, I used** _ **The Prayer Song**_ **, from** _ **Daimajin Kanon**_ **. I also used some lyrics of** _ **Save Tonight**_ **, by Eagle Eye Cherry.**

 **Once again, I apologize for how different this will be from Fate Screwed Me Over. I can only hope it is a better kind of different. For those of you who read this and are confused, there is a prequel I suggest reading, since this makes references to it, but will not go into detail about the past. I will also have a Lavi Route and a Kanda Route. They will mostly be the same, with a few tweaks here and there.**


	2. Chapter 2

**This is the second chapter of my new series. I know I mentioned before that here will be no consistency in the length of the chapters, so I thought I should warn you that this will be much longer than the previous one.**

 **Chapter Two**

 **Shout**

 **Noah Manor, Utopia, September 12, 20XX**

Allen still had some time before dinner began at 7 o'clock. He had taken a small nap in his new bed for a few hours. When he awoke, he felt extremely groggy, and confused. It took a while before he became coherent. He contemplated staying in his room until then, but he decided he needed to at least get to know his surroundings. Therefore, he resolved himself to explore the manor. The first floor had been bright with cool colors and a cheery atmosphere. From what he had seen of the second floor, it was dark, with warm browns and reds to create a comforting and intimate atmosphere. It was this encouragement that finally drew the boy out of his bed and out of his place of hiding.

Allen's room was in a small hallway connected to a larger hallway by a door to the right of his room. He went through there, eyeing paintings of landscapes and abstract scenes with mild curiosity. He eventually came to a few room with archways leading into them instead of doors. The first…well it was soft. Someone had used carpet for the floor, filled it with plush toys, bean bag chairs, and odd floor couch and a few lap tables. He also noted there were at least a dozen pillows and blankets scattered throughout the room A sign on the wall leading into it read: NO PRANKS OR LOUD NOISES IN THE THINKING ROOM. Two boys were seated quietly together on the couch, one with his back to Allen, the other's profile barely pointed away from Allen. Allen, of course, did not enter that room and passed it by without a second glance.

The next room was a fairly normal living room, except that it didn't have a television. There were fluffy couches and individual chairs arranged in an odd circle around the fireplace, a few throws cast over the backs of some of the furniture. In the corner sat a medium-sized bookshelf. Most of the shelves contained volumes of books, well-worn by loving fingers, however, some of the shelves held a couple of board games. Allen could see this room being used as a good place for the family to gather in for socialization. He could almost imagine the adults sitting together, enjoying a glass of wine around the fire…it made him long to be a part of that wonderful scene. He almost went into the room so he could fantasize a little bit longer, but he dared not. He could barely see it, but there was a girl sitting in a strange fashion in one of the chairs. She was sewing a doll's dress, and looked young. Allen had no doubt this was a relative. Like the others, he avoided the girl and moved on.

The next room he came across was a kitchenette. This was a pleasant surprise, because Allen often got hungry at odd hours, and ate such an abnormal amount of food. He was particularly happy to know he had a place to go to sate his midnight munchies. He refrained from entering, however, when he saw a very large man inside. His muscles bulged through his long-sleeved shirt, and Allen was quite certain this man would not hesitate to beat him within an inch of his life if he so much as disturbed him in the action of icing the pretty white cake before him. Allen did not want a confrontation, therefore he left that room.

He walked around a bit more, coming to the ends of the hall. He found stairs leading up to the third floor, but he recalled mention that the third floor was mostly an observatory. Instead he opened the door to his right (he was almost certain that the door to his left led into a hallway filled with rooms like his own hallway). He walked into a refreshing room, painted a light blue softer than the sky; this was the original place Earl had led him to get to his room. It relieved Allen to know he could get to the same place any way he went, since his sense of direction was legendary—he could get lost on a train.

Allen walked through the large open room curiously, looking around. It had a television on the wall, a worn-out couch, a few gaming consoles, and a DVD rack. He might have gone towards the rack to see what kind of taste these people had, but he noticed that the balcony door was open, a breeze carrying the scent of cigarette smoke towards him. The brand was different than Cross's, but the familiar scent put Allen at ease. It gave him the courage to walk towards the source to see who was taking a smoke break.

The smoker was younger than Allen expected, in his mid-twenties. His skin was swarthy, smooth. He wore black slacks with a white dress shirt half buttoned down, untucked, and a tie loose about his neck. And the man's curly hair was slicked back. Allen wasn't sure if he looked attractive or dangerous, he looked somewhere between classy and mafia. Although, perhaps that explained a lot.

As Allen approached the man, he turned towards him, eerily light brown eyes studying him curiously.

"I suppose you are my neighbor," he remarked, words slurred by the cigarette between his lips. He looked tired, yet he still gave the boy a friendly smile. "I'd give you a proper welcome, but I just got off of work and I'm still regaining my sense of sanity."

"What do you do?" Allen asked curiously. The man grinned, removing the cigarette to blow out a ring. Thankfully, he made it float away from the boy.

"Would you believe me if I said that I'm a card dealer at a casino?" the man asked. Allen looked him over.

"I would," he responded honestly. "Is that what you really do?"

"Of course. Who wouldn't take the opportunity to legally cheat people out of their money through something as simple as a card game?" The stranger gave Allen a pointed an appraising look. "Mind you, I teach high schoolers during workdays."

 _A teacher?_ Allen thought dubiously. Lie or not, the card-dealer seemed likeable enough, and even some of the best liars in the world were good people.

"Fair enough," he said at last. "What's your name?"

"Tyki. You're Allen, right?" The boy nodded. "Sheryl said you would be coming today. No one actually believed him, though."

"Why not?"

"Well, Sheryl…" Tyki paused, his eyebrows knitting together in a frown. "Sheryl is Sheryl. He talks and talks, but we don't really pay attention to what he says. The brats, especially, ignore him."

Allen recalled the other teens in the other rooms on the floor. "A girl and two boys, right? I think I saw them."

"Yeah, those are the brats I meant, thought there are actually four of them. I am sure you saw the twins, Jasper and David. The girl was Road," Tyki replied. He drew inwards through the cigarette, a long suck that burned the end quicker. Then he let a seemingly endless cloud of smoke into the air before he continued on. "The last brat is Wisely. He's annoying, but fair company when he wants to be. He is not as rambunctious as the other three, as he is prone to migraines."

Now that Tyki mentioned it, he could remember Earl mentioning something about four youths.

Tyki turned slightly so that he could stab the butt of the stick onto the stone balcony railing. He tossed it into a conveniently placed trash can where a hundred other stumps rested. He pushed himself off of the edge.

"If you don't mind the wait, I can show you around the mansion, and introduce you to the others," Tyki offered. Allen tensed at the thought.

"No need," he said hurriedly. "I would just like to get sued to my surroundings first."

Tyki nodded, his expression understanding. He bid Allen farewell and left him alone on the balcony. In silence, Allen contemplated his situation. When he could think no more, he simply admired the beauty of his surroundings. He would never admit it to anyone, but he missed Cross. He worried about his guardian, scared that he would not see the man again.

The mere idea of such a thing made Allen want to cry.

::

"Allen," someone called gently. Allen glanced back at the owner of the voice and saw Sheryl coming to join him on the balcony. He stopped a few feet away from Allen, remaining a comfortable distance away from the boy. "Dinner is ready. I can take you downstairs if you would like to join us."

Allen didn't really want to join them, but he knew he had to do so sooner or later. With no small amount of reluctance, he turned his back on the beautiful scenery and his worries. He followed Sheryl downstairs to the dining room.

The dining room was spacious, but not nearly as large as he had feared it would be. Considering Earl told him he had thirteen other relatives living in the house—manor—and the occasional guest in addition to the household's two permanent guests, he had expected a dining room the size of an auditorium. Allen entered the room behind Sheryl and was relieved to see only two people already present, Earl being one of them. He was not familiar with the blonde woman seated by his side, though she looked quite attractive and nice, albeit a little too composed. Allen put her around the same age as Tyki, perhaps a tad older. She wore a professional suit, and a long ponytail both conservative and stylish. She almost reminded the boy of a lawyer.

Earl caught sight of Sheryl and Allen and he grinned at them.

"Allen!" It's good to see you again, even though it's only been a few hours! Please, take a seat wherever you would like," Earl told him. He swept an arm widely out towards the empty chairs at the table. "The others will arrive shortly."

Allen took a seat between Earl and Sheryl (closer to Earl). It was almost directly across from the blonde woman (if he hadn't shifted closer to Earl).

"Allen, this is Lulubell, one of the children I adopted," Earl introduced them.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he said politely. Lulubell smiled slightly, the gesture a little awkward, but completely genuine.

"Likewise. We have all been looking forward to meeting you," she replied. "If I remember correctly, you are fifteen?"

"Yes. I'll turn sixteen in a few months," Allen answered.

"That will be quite a bit of time for us to catch up," a new voice said. The boy cast a quick glance towards the entrance. He saw a man with crazy curly hair and coke-bottle glasses sauntering in. His clothes were baggy and stained, and Allen vaguely wondered if they were allowed to dress like this at dinner, or if the man was someone homeless who had wondered in.

 _I thought they stopped making glasses like that thirty years ago_ , he thought to himself, grossly fascinated by how hideous this newcomer's glasses were.

"Hello again," the messy man greeted Allen. As soon as he saw the man and heard his voice together, it clicked in the boy's mind just who this person was.

"You look completely different," he remarked emphatically, looking over Tyki once again. Sheryl scowled, raking his eyes over the newcomer again.

"He looks like a vagabond," Sheryl muttered, disapproving of his brother's attire. "As soon as he gets home, he changes into those trashy clothes, switches his contacts for those hideous things. It's a waste of such a handsome face!"

 _I don't think that's what you are supposed to call those clothes_ , Allen thought, his humor tickled by the image of Tyki in trash clothes. After a moment, he frowned slightly. _The way Sheryl said that about his relative was kind of disturbing. He doesn't think of him like…like_ that _, does he?_

As Allen contemplated this, he looked between the two, hoping that they were only cousins.

"Sheryl, you're my brother," Tyki admonished. Allen decided that Sheryl was indeed an existence all of its own, and completely worthy of being ignored, as Tyki had mentioned earlier, if he was perving on his own brother. "Don't say creepy things like that. People will think you're actually into incest."

"But Tyki, you are attractive, and you should dress like it," Sheryl pointed out.

Earl chuckled in amusement as the two fell into what the boy assumed to be a common argument they shared.

"I adopted Sheryl and Tyki from Portugal. They were a packaged deal," he explained to Allen. "Aside from the twins, Jasper and David, they are the only blood-related siblings in hour family."

Allen took Earl's word for it, and began comparing the two brothers mentally. It was a faint resemblance on the surface, but they shared a similar base structure, thought Tyki's features were significantly softer and more youthful. Both men were undoubtedly attractive (if Allen was feeling particularly lacking in confidence, he would enviously categorize them as the perfect models who needed no make-up or touch-up). Sheryl's attractiveness was far sharper, almost harsh, and he was the leaner of the two, almost gangly.

A whirlwind of noise drew Allen's attention from further scrutinization. He watched as two boys—one with medium length black hair, one with long blonde hair—rushed inside the dining room. One cackled, spinning around to do an impromptu backflip, just as the other gave a lightening-fast kick where he had stood a blink before. Hey continued this energetic game of chase, ending it when they at last came to the table and leapt into their chairs. Allen was surprised to see them both wearing heavy, gothic makeup (he admitted, it did suit them). Allen assumed these two boys were the twins, and they were definitely the two he had seen in the room upstairs earlier. The blonde actually looked fairly feminine, with a soft face and large eyes. The length of his hair made him look even more like a girl. Contrastively, the darker haired twin had more angular features, eyes more intense in expression. Like all of the other members of this family, related by blood or not, they were ridiculously attractive. Allen was even beginning to feel the stirrings of envy upon seeing them up close.

"You're the new kid," the blonde said. Allen nodded. "You name is Alex, isn't it?"

"Allen," he corrected. The darker-haired twin offered him a hand all too eagerly.

"Nice to meetcha!" He said grinning. Allen didn't like the way the boys' eyes glimmered with mischief. He didn't trust them and made a mental note to avoid them as much as possible in the future.

"Where is Road?" Sheryl asked them. The one who had offered retracted his head with a mild amount of disappointment in the action.

"She went to bring Sweet Tooth down," he answered.

"Please don't call Skin that," Earl requested, sounding both amused and disapproving.

"But he is one," Tyki pointed out. Lulubell shook her head in quiet exasperation.

"Tell him that to his face, then," she dared him. Tyki merely grinned as if to say, _I'm no idiot to fall for that_.

"What about Wisely?" Sheryl continued on, ignoring the other conversations around them.

"Who knows," the blonde twin said, not even exhibiting a single ounce of concern. Tyki turned his chuckle into a cough when Lulubell sighed. Allen was a little overwhelmed by the number of people at the table. He was even more shocked to hear about the great number of people who had yet to come join them. He had thought opulence would make them less like a normal family, yet here he was proven wrong by these interactions. He had expected something more organized, calm, and collected from rich people. Allen was less certain he would be able to remain with them throughout dinner. Though on the other hand, he supposed it was relief that everyone cared about one another (to the extent that siblings can) despite not sharing blood.

A girl skipped into the dining room, tugging along the giant man Allen had seen icing a cake earlier in the kitchenette upstairs. Allen recognized her as well, though now that she was standing up, he was surprised to see how small and petite she really was. She looked around eleven or twelve, with short, dark hair cut into a pixie cut. Her outfit was very girly, matching the dolls he had seen throughout the room. The man next to her…he was huge. Just—the size of a mountain.

"I wouldn't tell him that," whispered a voice in his ear. The boy jerked around, and found a teenager a couple of years his senior in the chair right beside him. His hair was reddish, eyes dark, he was thin, and pale—quite frankly, he looked sickly.

Yet another hand was shoved towards Allen, though this one was not so nearly dangerous.

"Wisely," the teenager announced. Allen took the hand hesitantly.

"Allen," he responded. He was beginning to wonder if he would be able to fit into a group of people so diverse and odd.

"Don't worry about that. We are _family_ for a reason. Of course you will fit in with us," Wisely assured him. Allen wondered if the boy could read his mind, or if he had said something out loud.

There was a smug glint in Wisely's eye, and it was answer enough. Allen was tempted to punch Wisely in the face for being smug about an invasion of privacy. But he was faltering, because if he could read minds—

 _Don't let anyone close._

 _Don't let anyone close enough to betray you again._

 _You can only ever trust Cross._

"Please don't hit me," Wisely requested politely, drawing Allen from those odd feelings in his chest. He opened his mouth to give a shaky retort, but a girl leapt into his lap, settling happily there.

"Hi Allen! I'm Road!" she said brightly.

 _Don't trust anyone._

It was too much.

 _If you trust someone, they will betray you_.

There were too many people.

 _Do you want to be hurt again_?

He was panicking.

 _You can only trust Cross._

Cross wasn't with him to calm him down. Allen stood up abruptly, dumping the girl in his chair.

"Wait, Allen—"

He didn't wait. He ran all the way upstairs before anyone could stop him.

::

Allen took the stairs all the way to the third floor. He found sanctuary in the observatory there. He sat, curled in a corner, until he calmed down from his panic. After calming down a little, he realized the foolishness of hiding in such an open room, and instead he went through the door closest to him. He found the music room, filled with books and instruments, amplifiers, and other things. Without really knowing why, he took a guitar off of its stand, holding it to himself in his lap as he sat on the floor again. He held it to himself as one might hold a teddy bear, or a pillow. He sat there, enjoying the silence, and the sense of being alone. By nature, he did not trust easily. He did not like being around large groups of people. He didn't like this manor. It was too big, too foreign. He didn't like the people here either, because he didn't know them, couldn't trust them. Allen was afraid that they might one day betray him, or hurt him. Being in an unknown place, he wasn't really sure what he would do if something like that happened. He had never lived in America before, never lived in the countryside. Quite frankly, Allen was feeling a little…homesick. He had never had a permanent home before, but he wanted to be home now. For him, Home was _safe_ , and _peaceful_ , _Cross_.

Allen curled further around the guitar. He felt alone in the world.

The door opened; Allen could hear it, despite how slowly and quietly the person was trying to make it open. The boy tensed, preparing himself for one of the adults to either lecture him or baby him. Yet the soft footsteps of the man (or woman) were slow and measured, and when the man crouched in front of Allen with a smile, Allen saw he was not a man at all. He looked to be on the cusp of adulthood, with _bright_ red hair, an eyepatch, and a beautiful green eye.

"Now what are you doing up here?" the stranger asked him curiously. Allen's breath caught in his throat, and he could not answer. He was too busy staring at this new person. And somehow he felt both exhilarated and grieved to see him, though he did not know why. He knew they had never met before. Allen guessed his emotion meter was broken, working for strangers in a way it ought not to.

"It's dinner time. You should go eat," the stranger suggested. Allen stirred from his silence.

"There are too many people there I can't trust. And they act like a family, and I am a stranger," he said cautiously, haltingly. "I can't stand it."

The stranger's face filled with gentle understanding. He gestured to the empty ground next to Allen. "Do you mind if I sit down here?"

The boy shook his head, watching as the red-head plopped down right by his side. He gestured to the guitar.

"Do you play?"

Allen snorted, giving the stranger a _look_ : _what do you think?_

"You have an affinity for music, thought," the young man mused. "I can tell."

"I used to dance on the streets. Then I discovered the piano," Allen admitted. "I'm a street performer; I play the keyboard for some change."

"Indeed I was right! I bet you also have the gift to play anything you touch," he continued confidently. "All Noahs have an affinity for one instrument or another. But you look like you were _made_ from song."

Allen was sure that had not been the red-head flirting with him, but it still made him blush. It was such a cheesy line. He decided to change the subject and ignore that line.

"What are Noahs?" he asked. The red-head looked mildly guilty, as if he had said something he shouldn't have.

"Ah. Well, Earl is descended from a unique person named Noah. Sheryl named the manor after that Noah. Any of the permanent residents are nicknamed 'Noahs'," Lavi explained. "It only applies to his family members now."

"I see," Allen said slowly. He felt it was a little odd, but then these people were a little eccentric anyways. "Earl adopted several of them, right? How am I…related to everyone?"

"Hmm. Earl's twin brother was your father, so he is your uncle. Earl adopted Sheryl, Tyki, Lulubell, and Skin. They are technically your cousins," he replied carefully, face screwing up as he tried to remember exactly how everyone was related to everyone. "Sheryl adopted the twins and Road. Tyki…unofficially adopted Wisely. They're your cousins as well. Technically speaking."

"Don't I have other—"

"If they aren't your uncle, they are cousins," the red-head pointed out. "Don't worry about it too much. Your family tree is complicated."

"And what is my relation to you?" asked Allen. Having only one uncle made everything—and everyone—much easier to classify.

"None. My name is Lavi; my grandfather is a friend of your family," Lavi answered, giving Allen a friendly smile. He gestured to the guitar again. "If you really do feel that uncomfortable and scared, you should use music."

"Music?" repeated Allen. Lavi nodded.

"When I first met Earl's family, they hated me. Rightfully so." He knocked on the wood of the instrument in Allen's lap with his knuckles. "Then we found out that we are more similar than we are different. We all have emotions and problems. We also have music within us. It was the medium we used to show the faces we hid from each other."

Allen could empathize. He performed on the keyboard, yet never sang in public for that very reason. With the keyboard and the piano, he could channel his heart. Singing, he exposed it for everyone to feel and to _see_. He did not like it when everyone could see _him_ as he was.

"Music is a powerful magic," Lavi murmured. "During my darkest times, it was my only way of expressing emotion. Where words failed, music did not."

After a moment, Lavi held his hands out. Allen handed the guitar over to him. He watched the other settle it comfortably in his lap. He met Allen's gaze as soon as he was done adjusting. His fingers began to move, catching on the strings, and Allen felt as if he were caught in a web.

" _Shout, Shout let it all out_ ," Lavi sang, his voice warm and encompassing Allen fully. " _These are the things I can do without."_

Shivers ran down Allen's spin as an enchantment was cast over him.

" _Come on, I'm talking to you, come on."_

Lavi's gaze never left his, and Allen could feel something within waking up, resonating. It was…as Lavi had said… _magic_.

" _In violent times, you shouldn't have to sell your soul_ ," Lavi sang, voice going higher and growing more powerful, like the rise and fall of the sea. _"In black and white, they really ought to know._

" _Those one track minds that took you for a working boy_."

Allen saw Lavi's lips twist into a knowing, flirtatious smile. He did his best not to blush, but it is difficult when one is caught by a spell.

" _Kiss them goodbye, you shouldn't have to jump for joy!"_

Lavi's voice faded, trailing of as his fingers slowed the strumming. He ended the song there, and broke the allure he had cast on Allen.

"It's still a work in progress," Lavi explained. "How do you feel?"

"Free." Allen blinked as the words slipped out.

"That's good. If you want, I can teach you how to play," Lavi offered.

"No, but thank you for the offer."

"Well, that offer stands as long as you want. I have some work to do, but you can come with me and I will keep you company," he offered. Allen appreciated the gesture, but he wanted to stay in contemplative isolation. He had a lot of thinking to do, some of it a re-evaluation of his home and relatives. If they had common ground, then maybe there was hope of them all getting along. "Suit yourself then."

Lavi exited the room. Allen took the guitar from the stand where Lavi had returned it.

"An affinity for music, huh," he mused under his breath. He gripped the neck, settling and arm over the curve of the guitar's body, so that his fingers rested comfortably against the strings. With his thumb and forefinger, he strummed. A clear chord rang out, matching the first one Allen had seen Lavi play. He imitated Lavi correctly.

A sense of sadness filled Allen, and a sense of nostalgia.

He shifted, smiling to himself, because he was going to make this experience a good one.

Allen switched his fingers again, strumming again.

::

"Have you seen Allen?" Earl asked Lavi, as the young man descended the stairs from the third floor. Lavi gave him a smile, pressing his finger to his lips, then pointing to the ceiling. After a moment of careful listening, Earl could hear the sound of slow, unsure strumming.

"He hadn't held a guitar before," Lavi said in a low voice. "Yet he can already play a song he only heard from me once."

"He is our Musician," Earl replied, shoulders relaxing now that he knew Allen was doing better than he had originally thought. His eyes, however, darkened. "He does not remember his past life, yet it makes him fearful of trusting others to such an extent—"

He broke off, using that break to reign in his temper so he could continue to speak in a low voice. He looked at Lavi with an intense, determined expression on his face.

"We cannot let him know of the war we are fighting. We cannot allow him to remember the past."

"But is it wise to lie to him?" Lavi asked Earl.

"Why burden him when we intend to protect him?" the other man pointed out. His expression was ancient, and harsh. "No one should live with the memories of their previous life, especially the horrors. There is a reason why the waters of Lethe are given to the good and not the wicked."

"And if he dreams of the past?" Lavi prompted gently. Earl paused. Dreams were inevitable. In dreams, the soul was without boundaries. Even magic is unpredictable.

"If he dreams, then we soothe his fears and insecurities when he wakes," Earl answered at last. He glanced up to the third floor. He was relieved, however, that Allen was not in worse condition.

::

 **Utopia, Noah Manor, September 13, 20XX**

The next day was Monday, and the house was empty. Everyone had gone to work or school, leaving only a couple of souls there: Allen, and Earl. Since it was empty, he took the opportunity to explore the manor to his heart's content. He began by going back over the second floor. He imagined he would spend a lot of time living on the second floor, so he allotted this exploration to organizing it in his head. He decided that the central room would be called the Game Room (even though he knew there were DVDs there as well), and the Game Room is where the stairs from the first floor brought people to the second floor, and also where it opened to the balcony. The hall way around it was shaped like a "u", and he called it the Main Hall. If he turned left out of the Game Room, he found himself in the Main Hall, in front of the door leading to what he dubbed the West Wing (though really, it was two doors that led into hallways where his relatives lived). If he walked down the Main Hall and turned the corner, he found the Kitchenette, the Living Room, and the Thinking Room, in that order. If he continued walking, he came to the East Wing, where he lived, and an entrance to the Game Room. Even if Allen got lost, he would still (probably) end up in the same place.

Allen knew none of the residents of the floor, aside from himself, were present, so inspected both wings quite thoroughly. Everyone had their name on their door, in one form or another. In the West Wing hall closest to the kitchenette, Allen found Road, Wisely, and Sheryl lived there, and their names had been engraved in plaques. Road decorated her door with stickers of candy such as lollipops, sweets twisted in wrappers, and gumballs. Wisely's door and Sheryl's door remained unmarked. In the neighboring hall of the West Wing, Lulubell and the twins lived. The twins had, not shockingly, spray-painted their names on their doors, while Lulubell kept the tasteful plaque with her name on it.

Allen, while exploring the East Wing halls, learned that Skin was in his hallway, diagonal from his room (he was not impressed with this arrangement), while Tyki was his neighbor. Skin used what looked to be a shop sign declaring his room to be his own, complete with adorable cupcakes around his name. Tyki had actually painted his door black, then in purple, gray, and white wrote his name in calligraphy. In the hallway next to their own, Allen found Earl's room (the man had carved that into the wood), and Lavi's. It seemed that Lavi shared a room with his grandfather, and they put out a simple plaque made in the same style as Lulubell's.

After this review, Allen went down to the first floor to get to know the area a little better. The stairs led him back into the atrium. He found the front door directly in front of him, leading to the manor grounds outside of the building. He found the Parlor on the side he dubbed 'West', and a beautiful library on the 'East' side. Allen thoroughly explored the Library, since it was as large as the Parlor, and perhaps even more grand since it was filled with at least a thousand books. There were no walls in this room; the shelves _were_ the walls., and even curved around the windows in the room. The Library had two antique-styled wing-back chairs, each one accompanied by a lovely end table. Although they were probably only for decoration, Allen thought they looked might comfy, and someone had left a book in the seat of one of the chair's, a bookmark saving his or her place. As with everything else, the Earl's family used their wealth to by nice things, but not merely for aesthetic purposes, it seemed. They used everything, and enjoyed it.

Allen was a little reluctant to leave the Library, but he forced himself to continue his familiarization of the manor. He turned to the third door, right across from the entrance. It lead him into yet another hallway. Going straight, Allen saw a bright room made of glass that he had not noticed the previous day. He peeped into the door to his left—it was the dining room, which he had already been in. After that, he poked his head directly across from the dining room. He was at first at a loss of what the room might be called. Perhaps the Recreation Room, or the Hobby Room. It held all kinds of things in there. Machines for exercise, for crafts, science experiments, and many other odd things of that nature. Allen decided that was a place he would not visit too often, and that he could tackle it another day.

With one last room to go on the first floor, Allen walked towards the bright room. It turned out that the end of the hall was actually a glass wall, with a glass door leading into what appeared to be a greenhouse. It was filled with many plants, which of course Allen did not recognize from afar, so he went inside for a closer look. As he examined them, crouching before the numerous plants on the floor and on tables and shelves, he realized he actually did not recognize many of them at all. Before him, he could only name one, and it rested in a pool of water.

Allen moved closer to the pool of water, reaching out past the lily pads to touch the blossoming stalks.

"Do you like lotuses?" someone asked him. Allen, startled, whipped around. He found an ancient man standing behind him, his back bent and face wrinkled with age. Long grey hair was pulled into a ridiculous ponytail that somehow managed to defy gravity.

 _Tell me every secret, and I will keep it_ , whispered Allen's mind. He shook off the sense of familiarity.

"I knew someone who was like a lotus," Allen answered. He had always been partial to lotuses, though he could never remember who he associated with those flowers, or how they had met. He only knew that this person was one he held an inexplicable bond with, though it was not romantic. It was a bond deeper than that.

"Did you now?" the old man asked curiously. His gaze looked knowing, but Allen figured that this stranger was old enough that he had also probably met someone that was like that as well.

"A long, long time ago," Allen replied, somewhat nostalgically. IT took him a moment to remember that he was standing before a stranger, one who he, for some bizarre, and quite frightening reason he did not know, felt he could trust. The boy stuck his hand out to the old man. "Ah, I apologize for not introducing myself! I am Allen Walker."

The old man's eyes sparkled with amusement as he shook the hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Bookman, also called 'Booker'. I keep the library and garden here." His gaze was quite friendly, and further eased Allen's natural instinct to distrust people. "You met my grandson yesterday, Lavi. We are family friends of Earl."

"Yes, so I have heard." He paused, studying Booker more closely. "You two are very different."

"Indeed. My grandson can be tactful when he chooses to be, but he often likes to be playful," Booker replied apologetically. "I hope you will forgive him whatever says or does. He means no harm."

"He was friendly and helpful when I met him yesterday," Allen assured him, meaning every word. He wasn't entirely sure why he felt so comfortable with this old man or why he trusted him (he almost trusted him as much as Cross, and he had just met him!), but he knew this man was the kind of person one could tell anything to and he wouldn't care one whit. If you asked him to keep a secret, he will—

 _If you ever have confession or two to give, I will always listen. And if you want to keep it a secret, I will—_

-take it to the grave.

"I am glad to hear that. Now tell me, mister Walker, what may I help you with?" the old man asked him. Allen almost requested the old man to call him by his given name, but he realized that he had been given an affectionate form of teasing by being called "mister Walker". It had been done not in light-hearted familiarity or formality. He smiled, oddly touched by the man's intention.

"I'm just exploring, looking around," Allen explained. "I had hoped to do so while everyone else is out."

"Ah, yes. Almost everyone who lives here works or attends school," Booker explained. "I work here, and Earl is the one who keeps all of the accounts in order, so he works in the office instead of having a job."

Allen recalled the third floor. It had the observatory, and the music room. The other door he had not entered must have been the study.

"I see," Allen murmured. He felt oddly disappointed that there were not more people to try to get to know. He had hopes of being able to have at least _one_ person, aside from Earl, to ally with. He may have felt uncomfortable with all of his relatives present, but he felt confident that he could do well enough with one or two.

"If you get lonely, feel free to come find me," Booker offered kindly. "I will usually be here or in the library. In the evening, I take to my quarters."

"Oh, I saw that you share a room with Lavi?" the boy brought up curiously. Booker regarded him carefully, a bitter light in his eye.

"Yes. In my old age, it is good to have someone close at hand," he answered carefully. Allen then wondered how old Booker actually was, to need someone by his side in case of an accident. He also felt a little bad for Lavi, who was both so young to have that kind of responsibility, and—well, Allen had the impression Lavi only had the old man. If Booker died, he would be so sad and lonely.

"How do you feel so far?" Booker asked him, bending down to tend to a plant. Allen immediately joined, hoping to assist him. Booker laughed, waving away the boy's help. He worked efficiently, hands moving with more control and energy than one might expect n an old man so marked by age. Instead, he repeated his question and allowed Allen the time to think.

"I feel worried about Cross. It's frustrating," he confessed. His gaze wandered back over to the lotuses blooming out of the water. His expression softened into something more grieved than simple contemplation. "Here I am, in an opulent home, with a dozen relatives, an opportunity to go to a good school. I am here, and my biggest concern is being unable to avoid everyone here. Yet Cross…who knows what he is doing. Maybe he is caught in the slums, maybe someone is torturing him. He might be fearing for his life, while I fear only whether or not I can trust these people."

Allen looked back at Booker, his gaze pained.

"It _isn't fair_ ," he told him in a voice filled with sorrow and longing.

"He wants you to be well, Allen," said Booker. "No matter where he is or what he is going through at the moment, I do not think he would want you to worry about things like poverty or death when he is not by himself."

"I never asked for that," Allen pointed out, his tone coming out sharper than intended. At once he felt guilty for snapping at Booker. The old man was not offended in the slightest.

"No, you did not," Booker agreed. "Nonetheless, he made the choice because he is your guardian. You come first, always. I imagine knowing that you are here, with family to support you, gives him a peace of mind."

Allen was silent, knowing just how true those words were. Cross was usually an unpleasant man with too many vices to enumerate. However, he always kept Allen's livelihood in mind, and they lived together with plenty of happy memories between them (their life or death situations aside; that was valuable bonding time after all).

"Do you know what he is involved in?" Allen asked, hoping that Booker knew, or had some words of knowledge to share.

Booker look his time to answer Allen's question as he pulled dead leaves off of the plants. Allen could not tell if the man was thinking, or if his words had truly gone unheard. Perhaps he had no answers to give, after all. Allen turned his head away, discreetly biting his lipto stop the tears from falling, his heart aching at the thought of losing Cross.

"He was once a soldier with a great duty," Booker began. The boy's head whipped around in surprise. "He had obligations from many years ago he had yet to fulfill."

The old man met Allen's gaze, and his eyes burned.

" _Have hope_ , Allen," he told the boy. "Do not focus on what might be. Instead focus on what you have today, and what is in your power to control."

::

 **Utopia, Noah Manor, September 14, 20XX**

Allen was glad that he had met Booker. The old man had imparted him with both the truth and words of wisdom.

The second morning of Allen's stay, he sought out the old man again. He did not get very far, however, before he was accosted by a strange man named Jerry. Apparently Earl's family had an in-house cook in their employment, and everyone (Booker included) had neglected to tell him about the man's presence. The moment Jerry caught sight of Allen, the boy was enveloped in a pair of wiry arms, face buried in a uniform that smelled of delicious foods. Allen rarely made physical contact with people he did not know well, and he almost lashed out at Jerry in a self-defense move Cross had taught him. No, actually, Allen _did_ swing a fist at Jerry, but the man dodged it.

"Hah!" Jerry cried triumphantly, finally releasing the boy while said boy wore a shocked expression. "I'll have you know that I am used to such attacks from the twins!"

Well, that declaration explained everything, and confirmed Allen's suspicions that the twins were dangerous.

"Please don't hug me," Allen said warily. Jerry looked at him, noting to himself that Earl had found yet another distrusting soul to add to the collection of inhabitants in the manor. Not that this was a problem. He had to adjust his menu for Allen, and knew that the way in to Allen's heart was truly through his stomach.

(It should be noted here, because Allen will _never explain this_ , but his ex-boyfriend gained his trust primarily through food bribery).

"Have you had breakfast yet?" Jerry asked. Allen blinked at the sudden calm in the man's demeanor. He found it suspicious and wondered if the man had finally decided to use some tact or if he was plotting something. His expression undoubtedly said this, for the man added, "MY name is Jerry. Sheryl employs me as his cook."

As soon as Allen heard this, his eyes grew wide, and his mouth began to water.

"You're the one who makes all of those delicious meals?" he asked in awe.

"It became the foundation of a very loyal relationship. Later, Jerry told Skin about Allen's love for food. It didn't happen _that_ day, but eventually Skin brought home some of the goodies from his bakery and gave them to Allen (a bribe of affection, certainly, but this was something Allen truly did not mind).

After a delicious brunch that satisfied both Allen's stomach and tongue, he decided to find Earl. He hadn't seen the man since the day he had arrived, and he felt bad about that. Earl was kind, and Allen genuinely liked him. He searched high and low for Earl, and eventually found himself climbing to the third floor, walking towards the one room in the house he had not really explored yet. He cracked open the door, smiling when he finally found his quarry. He slipped into the room, glancing at the man who was talking to himself at the window.

"—be going to school tomorrow," Earl murmured, looking out the window. In the light, his eyes gleamed an eerie gold. Allen was taken aback and moved closer to see if it had been his imagination or a trick of the light. Earl heard him, and turned to look at the boy. His eyes were just as dark as the boy remembered, not gold to be seen.

 _It must have been my imagination,_ he thought to himself.

"I'm sorry for interrupting you," Allen apologized. Earl was quick to smile.

"No, no. I was just thinking about tomorrow," the man assured him. "I intended to find you around two o'clock. I had some things to discuss with you."

Allen approached the patriarch of the family, looking around the study for a place to sit. He absently noted it looked more like an office than a study, but that wasn't really surprising. Eventually he decided just to sit in one of the chairs in front of Earl's desk.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asked.

"We registered you for school yesterday. Are you prepared to go to school tomorrow? Do you need anything?" he asked Allen.

"Well, I don't have a backpack or school supplies," Allen replied.

"We can buy you a backpack this weekend when we buy you some things to decorate your room," Earl promised. "We do have a couple of extra bags you can use. I'm sure Tyki or Wisely have something you wouldn't mind using too much. There are also school supplies in the ottomans in the Thinking Room."

"Oh," was all Allen could think of to say. He had forgotten he would have to attend school, with relatives no less. Suddenly he felt nervous and uneasy.

"Do you feel uncomfortable?" Earl asked, sensing Allen's sudden apprehension. "We can wait for a day or two."

"No," Allen replied quickly. "I'm just a bit nervous. It would be better to get this all over with as soon as possible."

Earl studied Allen for a moment before obeying the boy's wishes. He decided to change the subject to distract the boy from the excitement of 'tomorrow'.

"What have you been up to?" he asked.

"I've just been exploring," Allen said vaguely. He brightened. "I met Booker and Jerry."

Earl winced, recalling that he had neglected to tell Allen about the exuberant cook.

"I apologize for not warning you about Jerry," he began earnestly. "It seems to have slipped my mind—"

"Don't worry. He was really pleasant after a few minutes. He even made me lunch," Allen added. A smiled tugged at the corner of Earl's mouth. He was glad that Jerry had picked up on Allen's skittish and distrustful nature, and had found a way to befriend Allen despite that obstacle.

"I'm glad to hear," Earl said softly. He continued to listen to Allen tell him about his meetings with the two men. He didn't voice it, but he had actually been afraid that Allen would not feel comfortable enough to interact with anyone in the manor. It warmed him to hear Allen had taken a shine to both employees, Booker in particular. Booker…was good for Allen in many ways. Simply his presence would be beneficial to the boy.

"Do you think you would be open to getting to know the others?" Earl asked once Allen had finished.

"The others?" Allen repeated slowly.

"If you got to know them, it might make you feel a little better going to school tomorrow," Earl pointed out. He saw Allen's hesitance.

"You mean the ones my age, like the twins and Wisely," Allen realized. He assumed Earl meant the rest of the family at once, and he had not been comfortable with that idea at all. He wasn't sure getting to know the other teenagers was a good idea. It was, however, preferable to meeting the rest of the family in one go. "I'm not sure how I feel about that…"

"Then watch one of their band practices," the man suggested. "Their music is _magical_."

::

Around four-thirty, the other teenagers returned to the manor. Allen waited for them to do their homework. He hadn't realized it the day before, since he had not really wanted to interact with anyone beyond Booker and Earl, but apparently they all went straight to the Thinking Room to do their school work. Jerry brought them snacks and drinks to tide them over until dinner time. Allen did not visit them while they did their homework. That would have been too boring. As soon as he saw them go upstairs, however, he was ready to go watch them. Well, he waited a moment for them so that they wouldn't notice him following them.

The stair steps were quiet and did not creak as Allen crept up to the third floor. He walked over to the music room, leaning closer to the door. After a moment of hesitation, Allen cracked the door open and peeked inside.

Everyone was in place, some tuning instruments, others looking through their binder, and they all had a binder. It must have been a band thing, because while each one was uniquely decorated, there was still some sort of uniformity.

"Man, that homework was boring," David complained. Did Tyki _have_ to give us such a lame assignment?"

"Yeah! Who assigns map-making as an assignment?" Jasper agreed. It took Allen a moment to remember to realize that they were talking about his neighbor Tyki. It appeared that the man had not been lying after all. The boy wondered why Tyki would choose to do both jobs, or even why any of his family members worked. They had enough money to live off of without a job.

"Shut it. You're lucky he isn't here today, or he would be hazing you," Road pointed out.

"It's a good thing Kanda and Tyki had that faculty meeting, huh?" Lavi joked. He received a less than amused response from his band members. "Alright, we're down a string and a vocal, so let's get to practicing and hope for the best!"

Road settled on the drums, David stopped tuning his guitar, and Jasper got into position with the bass. Lavi, however, took out a kid's microphone, the cheap plastic kind that imitates amplification. Allen's eyebrows furrowed together in utter bewilderment.

 _What the hell_? He wondered.

"Alright guys let's do the—" Lavi was interrupted by Road.

"The creepy part of the song, we got it," Road bit out. Lavi gave her a dirty look. She saluted him cheekily with her drumstick, and raised her voice louder. "One, two, one two three four!"

Music rang out, though it was not quite a symphony. And Lavi began his song, and as always, Allen was enchanted.

" _Shout, Shout, let it all out,_

 _These are the things I can live without_

 _Come on, I'm talking to you, come on."_

It certainly sounded odd, but all things considered (namely, they were missing two people), it wasn't bad. And while Lavi was singing with even more emotion than before, it wasn't with the gentleness he had used with Allen in the hallway. He had wanted to know how the song was written to sound. Well, he got his answer. He almost felt as if Lavi's voice was scraping against his soul. He wasn't sure if the sensation was pleasant or not.

" _And when you've taken down your guard_ ," Lavi sang, a dangerous glint in his eye, the gleam of a predator with his prey in sight. It made cold sweat drip down Allen's spine.

" _If I could change your minds,_

 _I'd really love to break your heart,_

 _I'd really love to break your heart!"_

Suddenly the predatory gleam left Lavi's eye, replaced with something softer, yet full of mor emotion than Allen had expected. He felt like he was being told a story now, rather than a hunter's plans for how he would be killed.

" _As cold as ice…"_

 _ **I don't know whether he will live or die, but someone will always know. Even if all the remains are stories.**_

A tear fell from Allen's eye, born from something between heart and memory, perhaps even instinct.

" _I hope we live to tell tale!_ " Lavi sang, unknowing what his song was awakening in Allen.

" _I hope we live to tell_ —" Lavi's wandering gaze fell on the crack, as if drawn. He saw Allen and their eyes met. "— _the tale_ …"

Lavi's voice trailed off, and the music continued on without hi, for a few beats.

It was like magic, just as Earl had promised, Allen realized absently, fingers touching the dampness beneath his eye. He looked down at it in confusion, wondering what had made him cry.

Had he felt Lavi's emotions through his song and he had sympathized?

Or had the music invoked something Allen had not known about before?

Either way, the boy could not bring himself to stay. He felt unnerved, so he ran away. Figuratively and literally. He would never admit it to anyone, but he was frightened. So very scared.

::

 **Utopia, Campbell Academy for the Gifted, September 15, 20XX**

"Here is your class schedule," the secretary said, handing Allen the form. He took it, looking over everything. Earl, who stood by his side, slipped him a map of the school with color-coded, detailed routs already marked out for him (there were even instructions written out on the side) so he wouldn't get lost as easily. Allen glanced up at Earl with a grateful smile, though in the back of his mind he wondered how the man had known about his awful sense of direction.

"Go on to class," Earl urged him, eyes filled with pride and reluctance to let his nephew go. "Someone will drive you back to the manor after school."

Earl hesitated, eyes growing worried.

"And if you need to leave for any reason, tell your teacher to call your guardian, okay?" he added. Allen nodded. He felt relieved by the offer, and his unspoken promise that he would come if Allen asked him to.

"Thank you," Allen told him. He meant it.

Bravely, Allen shoved his shouldered his bag and left to go to his first class (the blue line on his map). He found his classroom without too much trouble. The door read 'Mr. Mikk', and it matched the name on his schedule. Well, it was _interesting_ , since the man's name had been _graffitied_ onto the wood. In a familiar style, Allen realized. He wasn't sure how he felt seeing the twins' handiwork, but he pushed through the door nonetheless. What awaited him was a surprise he hadn't quite expected—though of course, he should have.

"Hello Allen!" Tyki greeted him, his tone far too bright for how early it was. Allen blinked, trying to process the fact that his relative was his teacher, and the fact he looked _professional_ and not suave. "Go ahead and sit next to Lavi. He needs a partner to help him."

Allen obeyed, still confused by Tyki's presence—and position.

 _What am I even supposed to call him?_ He wondered. _Tyki? Mr. Mikk?_

As he sat down, Lavi gave him a sympathetic look.

"Don't worry," he assured the boy. "We mostly color pages in this class. And if we have a big test, he usually tells us the answers the day before."

Allen stared at the red-head. Definitely unable to comprehend that.

" _Seriously?_ " Allen demanded.

As it turned out, Lavi was serious—and telling the truth. The rest of the class had been a joke, because Tyki simply gave the, maps of topography to color while he read a book. On one hand, Allen liked having an easy 'A'. On the other hand, he wasn't sure he could last long before dying of boredom.

Sadly, the rest of his day was equally bizarre and discouraging. Allen had Lavi for three classes—World History, Physical Education, and English. Since Tyki did a horrendous job of teaching history, Allen hoped Lavi would at least become someone who would help him keep his sanity in the days to come. It wasn't necessary in P.E. But in English…well, Allen's weakest point tended to be in reading and writing. His arm often hurt if he held a pen too long, and sometimes he found writings in class to be disturbingly relatable. He wished to find a companion in Lavi for that class as well.

Allen discovered Lulubell was a teacher as well, and a strict one at that. He had quivered, dreading her Geometry class when she sat him down between the twins Jasper and David. It _had_ been a class of Hell – Lulubell was frightening because she could both _teach_ and _discipline_ the twins simultaneously. Allen did not want to upset her. In short, it was an awful class, likely the worst class of his life.

Allen was not entirely sure how he had ended up in orchestra of all places, since he played piano and keyboard, and nothing else (he still refused to accept that he had been playing the guitar that day). He eventually decided that someone had decided to torture him by putting him in a class with Road. He wasn't even sure why she was in orchestra either, if she played the drums. The only luck he had is that he was given a cello to learn, while she played the violin, so they remained in separate sections during class. She still managed to be annoyingly affectionate and clingy.

By seventh period, Allen was utterly done with his day, and he was expecting to find yet another relative in his class. So Allen trudged into Art class, resigning himself to yet another awful class. But it was not what he expected at all. First of all, he was one of six students. He waited for more people to filter in, but the bell rang, then the tardy bell, and no one else came in. Secondly, Allen noticed that their teacher was not present in the classroom, something he had yet to come across. He looked around at everyone's face to determine if this was a normal occurrence or not. They did not look alarmed or uncertain, or even concerned. Lastly, he noted that they were all girls. Nice, quiet girls, the complete opposite of his noisy (and hellacious) relatives. It was a blessed relief from the rest of his day, and Allen was about to pray his thanks for being given such blessed sanctuary. But then—

 _Slam!_

He jumped a mile high, and his head snapped around to see who had slammed the door shut with such vehemence. He was surprised to see a tall young man only a few years older than them walking in. He was enviably attractive, even more than his relatives. His skin was flawless, his features striking, and long, long dark hair that shone like silk hung from a ponytail that was neat and perfect. Allen guessed the teacher, Mr. Kanda, was Japanese, but he wasn't entirely certain.

"Alright class, today—" the teacher's eyes swept over the class as he spoke. The intensity made Allen shudder inwardly. He was unsettled by whatever emotions or thoughts lay behind those dark depths.

 _I will give you my life, however short it may be._

"New kid."

"My name is Allen," said 'kid' responded automatically. This was, of course, ignored.

"Share supplies with the idiot next to you," the teacher told him, turning on heel. "We are doing watercolors today."

Allen frowned, put off by the man's gruff personality. It almost dampened his hopes of having found a class to relax in, but he decided not to let a few short words bring down his mood.

"Mr. Kanda," one of Allen's classmates began, "Will you be demonstrating today?"

The teacher snorted.

"Not like you idiots will learn any other way," he bit out. The girl next to Allen giggled, putting him off slightly. He reminded himself not to let it bother him and reluctantly went to work.

Mr. Kanda was actually not as awful as Allen had feared. He was a man of few words, a little too blunt, and strict. But he taught everyone with a patience belying words and tones, and he made certain everyone understood the lesson and techniques. This, at least, comforted Allen and made him think that perhaps Art might be the peaceful, relaxing highlight of the day Allen had hoped for.

After Art, Allen had Wisely for Chemistry. He almost punched Wisely in the stomach. Twice. He vowed to bring duct-tape for the annoying _nuisance_ every day.

::

Tyki was the one to find Allen. He picked Allen up a few minutes before class ended (he apparently had no eighth period) so that Allen could spend a few minutes away from the other Noahs his age. Out of pity, Tyki volunteered to drive Allen back in the car while Lulubell was given the task of driving the other brats in the van. They were probably going to be the first ones at Noah Manor, since Tyki intended to take the scenic route back.

"How was school?" Tyki asked Allen as they buckled themselves in.

"Wisely was annoying," Allen responded vaguely, though his voice promised murder. Tyki chuckled.

"Sounds about right," he responded. He started the car, pulling out of his parking place. "Did you get along with everyone else?"

Allen watched Tyki guide the car expertly through the chaotic throng of students. For a man who supposedly cheated others out of money for a part-time job, he was a surprisingly cautious driver.

"Lavi was nice," Allen said at last. "He helped me a lot and gave me plenty of space. Jasper put gum in my hair during Geometry. Lulubell had to cut it out."

Here, Tyki glanced at Allen's hair and noticed it looked noticeably more unkempt. It must have been a lot of gum.

"And Road tried to kiss me four times."

Tyki wondered why Allen had such rotten luck.

"I am sorry you had such an awful day at school," he said sympathetically. "It gets better.

They boy gave him a doubtful look. Tyki reworded his statement.

"As you learn how to deal with us, it gets better," he rephrased. "It is all overwhelming now, but once you adapt, things like Road and the twins can be avoided."

"If this is what every day will be like, I'm not sure I will be able to survive," Allen muttered. Tyki pulled onto the highway, trying to decide how he should deal with a sullen teenager.

"Believe me, I understand how hard this is for you. When Earl found my brother and adopted us, I hated it. He was not normal, nor was his brother. The other made our lives living hell, and I didn't want a family, or his damn wealth," Tyki told Allen. "It took _years_ for Earl to gain my trust. As our family grew, I learned that no matter what obstacles may come, or what we do to each other, we always stand together to overcome it."

Allen was quiet ad he took Tyki's words into consideration. He actually wasn't completely sure what he thought of everyone. Certainly, he felt worried, unhappy, abandoned, lonely, shy—he was a jumbled mess inside. He really just wanted something familiar. If he had something familiar, anything at all, he imagined he would be able to adjust a lot easier.

He supposed he could wait for a while, to see if things did get easier, as Tyki promised they would. But he wouldn't wait too long. He would give all of this one more week.

"Did you know Mana?" he asked Tyki uncertainly. "You don't look old enough…"

Tyki's hands tightened on the steering wheel as he realized he had slipped up a little. He couldn't tell Allen the truth—he had known Mana in the early seventeenth century, before Mana decided to cut off magic and adopt a human child. Casting off magic meant Mana had been weak and losing control of what little power he had, leaving him vulnerable against Exorcists. Cross, in this case. He couldn't tell Allen that Cross had actually murdered his father.

"I was young," Tyki admitted, and that was not quite a lie.

"So you don't remember him well?" Allen asked.

"I remember he was a clown," Tyki responded. He was relieved to see Allen smile as he looked out the window to watch the scenery go by, no doubt lost in memory, what little of it he had of a man he knew two centuries ago. Tyki imagined it couldn't be much more than a few memories that would fit in the modern world as easily as it did then.

When the manor came into view, Tyki broke the silence.

"When we get back, there is some time where all of the students gather together to do homework in the Thinking Room."

Allen recalled the previous day.

"Jerry brings snacks, right?" he questioned.

Tyki pulled onto the road leading to their property.

"Yes, but it isn't much. By Earl's request, all of the students have to do their homework, and participate in quiet time until the two hours are up," Tyki told him. "Jerry can only give you snacks during this time. After that, from five to six, we have family bonding time before dinner, so it will be a while before we eat anything substantial."

"Right. Dinner at seven," Allen recalled, hoping he would be able to remember all of that. He wasn't sure he could.

Tyki pulled into the driveway, parking it behind Lulubell's van. He led Allen up to the Thinking Room, where everyone was silently getting out their homework. Allen was greeted with a few hesitant smiles (and ignored by the twins, which was just as well). Lavi patted the seat next to him, and Allen took it since he didn't trust his relatives.

Once everyone got to work, Allen began to work, Allen began to focus on his assignments. The twins sat in the bean bags b the window, working on writing assignments. Wisely sat on the floor-couch with Lavi and Allen. He was laying half on the floor, his legs draped over the back as he read a textbook for Government. Road was on her stomach on the carpet, earbuds in and dolls in hand. Lavi was coloring a map from Tyki's class. Allen himself had the same assignment, Geometry homework. And a reading assignment for English. He was half-way done when Tyki came to join them in the Thinking Room bearing snacks.

"Jerry had to start dinner, since he forgot about the amount of food we need," he explained, setting a tray of sliced oranges, cookies, and small bottles of juice on the ground. Everyone went after the snacks, hungry since it had been hours since they had eaten lunch. Tyki remained, eyeing Road disapprovingly. "Road, have you done your homework?"

"Of course not," she responded. Allen was shocked by her bluntness. "You weren't here to help me."

Allen noted that Tyki had showered and changed into loose garments. He had also switched out his contacts for the hideous glasses.

"You can ask me questions, but I won't do your homework for you," Tyki reminded her. "I can only help you find the solution. And that will take more time than doing it yourself."

Road pouted, and reluctantly pulled her messenger bag from its place against the wall.

Everyone finished—Tyki had actually been very helpful in math, despite telling Road all of the answers were three.

They nursed their juices for the remaining fifteen minutes of their two-hour quiet time. As soon as Tyki declared it was time up, Road and the twins shot out of the room like rockets. They ran through the house with exuberant wails. Lavi, too, looked excited and he tried to tug Allen along with him.

"C'mon, you should come with us and see the whole thing," Lavi told him gently, making no mention of the fact that he knew Allen had witnessed their practice the previous day.

"No, I-I'll stay with wisely," he stammered. He couldn't bring himself to go there and to listen to that song again. It was too deep for him. The way it struck a chord inside was not comfortable.

"I get migraines, so I never go," Wisely warned him. "You shouldn't stay with me.

Well, that was probably true. Being with Wisely again would make Allen tempted to punch him.

Lavi took Allen's hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, drawing the boys attention back to him.

"There's no need to be scared of music," he told Allen in a low voice.

"I'm not scared," Allen retorted. When he was given a crooked grin, he realized he had been played.

"C'mon. You're our guest of honor today," said Lavi. He pulled Allen away, towards the music room. The journey seemed to take forever, and Tyki actually walked past them when they were going too slow. Somehow, it made Allen all the more nervous.

When they came to the music room at last, everyone was ready. This time, no one had sheet music. Tyki had a microphone, _Allen's Art teacher_ sat in a chair with a cello between his knees. Allen's first reaction was to demand what Mr. Kanda was doing in his house. But it was kind of self-explanatory. He was apparently in the band. It was odd to see two grown men in a band otherwise made up entirely of teenagers.

"Alright, we thought about it, and discussed it, and we want you in our band," Lavi told him. "We know you play keyboard, and all. I think you will probably have a good voice—"

"I don't like performing," Allen informed him. Lavi was not bothered.

"Neither does Yuu," he responded. Kanda glared at him. "But you can give it a try, right?"

Allen opened his mouth to (politely) reject their offer.

"Nonononono. Let him come to a few practices first," Road interrupted. "So he can see what we're like.

"Not bad," David said approvingly.

"Yeah, great idea," his twin agreed enthusiastically.

Allen snapped his mouth shut, feeling very much as if he had no say.

"You don't have to decide today," Tyki said soothingly. "We just wanted you to know that we would be happy to have you as a member of our band."

 _Put that way_ , Allen thought, _I feel guilty for rejecting them._

"Tyki's right. We don't want to force you," Lavi agreed. "You can wait to decide. We actually didn't bring you here to have you join."

"Then why did you?" Allen asked curiously. Once he was sure he wouldn't be interrupted.

"We practiced a song for you," Lavi responded. "Now that we have everyone here, would you like to hear it?"

"IS it the creepy one?" Allen asked, thinking of the reaction he had to it yesterday with dread.

"Uhm…yes?" Lavi asked uncertainly.

 _His lips were soft, and like a slice of heaven, and it made my heart soar and shatter all at once in a terrible display. I meant nothing to him._

Allen wasn't sure where those feelings came from, but he knew he could not bear to sit and listen to the song again. It stirred up too much, upset things that sat at the bottom of his soul—for a reason, no doubt—and brought them to the surface.

"No," he said absently, almost a whisper. "Any song but that one."

 **Fuuuuuuuck mmeeeeeeeee. This chapter was way too long, and I am never typing something like this up again in a one day. I'm done. I'm going to sleep.**

 **Song: Shout, by Tears for Fears.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I apologize for the long wait. I hand-write my drafts, and I misplaced the draft for this chapter (found it with my class notes; because I'm a terrible student who writes fanfiction during lectures). Plus, my friend refuses to type up my drafts, so the slow typing persists.**

 **I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Chapter 3**

 **Crashed**

 **Noah Manor, Utopia, September 14, 20XX**

Since Allen had rejected their offer (he most definitely _did not_ want to hear _Shout_ again, the band decided to play another song for him instead. They all agreed on this, though (fortunately for Allen) they would need a few days of practice to prepare for it. Allen did not feel particularly upset about this turn of events, and a part of him was smug for inconveniencing his annoying relatives. However, the gentlemen in him felt guilty for making them go through so much trouble when they had truly been trying to make him feel welcome and appreciated. He apologized with sincerity, and the others seemed to forgive him quite easily. Well, the twins, not so much, but he had not expected them to. He did not know them well yet, but he had already figured this out about them. Whether they forgave him or not, they most certainly would not let him know it. Lavi seemed to understand that the previous song had unsettled Allen—no doubt he remembered seeing Allen's face that moment he peeked in on them during practice. The only way Allen could describe how it made him feel was the expression: 'it hit too close to home'. Luckily, his relatives were of a short attention span, and for the rest of their practice time, they argued over what song. At last, the group settled onto a song called _Crashed_.

"Is it a song you all wrote?" Allen asked them, curious now about this next song.

"Lavi did," Road corrected him. "He wrote it for a person who…impacted his life."

"That's an understatement," Allen heard Tyki mutter, and when he glanced at the teacher, he noted that the man looked to be both amused and grimacing. It was a decidedly odd combination. Allen sensed a dramatic and long tale, and asked no further questions about who the song had been written in honor of.

After practice, everyone went to the kitchenette on the second floor, divvying out left-over Greek food for dinner. Allen felt more comfortable with them now, having seen them interact together. And while he still did not look forward to having to join another family dinner, he did not mind eating in an informal place with them. It also helped that Kanda, someone who could easily be ruffled, tolerated everyone and even ate together with them at the small table in the kitchenette. So Allen sat with them, everyone crammed together around a small table. He ate his portion, and readily took what others gave him. They made sure to include him in their conversation, but not in an obnoxious way, or as an after-thought. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the affair, though lively, was pleasant and enjoyable. It was a better ending to his first day of school than he expected. Everyone had done their best to annoy him and pester him. At home, Allen realized everyone just wanted to relax and decompress.

After a pleasant bout of socialization and dinner, Allen retired to his room. He made a list of things he wanted his room, making sure to include colors (Earl had insisted he be specific, since he wanted a room that suited Allen). After setting up his keyboard and playing a little, he went to bed with an eased conscience.

::

 **Campbell Academy for the Gifted, Utopia, September 15, 20XX**

His second day of school was a repetition of the first day. Quite frankly, this discouraged him. He still had no new friends, or people friendly enough to come talk to the new student. His cousins (is that how he was related to them? He couldn't remember) continued to harass him. Mainly the twins, he was beginning to learn. Allen was tired of them, and the third time they shot a piece of paper at his head, he whipped towards them and glared with all of the power of _Black Allen_ , his inner self he usually tried to keep hidden. He felt embarrassed to have snapped like that, but decided putting the twins in their place was worth it. They left him alone for the rest of class.

Allen was wallowing in self-pity and loneliness when that changed. He sat, eating his food slowly, forlornly. Lamenting over the miniscule food portions. He didn't look forward to making it through the rest of the day on an empty stomach. Wisely would definitely eat his face later, the unfortunate result of Allen's hangriness.

Suddenly another tray plopped down next to his. Startled out of his contemplations, Allen looked up at the owner, and moved at the wrong time. Awkwardly his face was caught in warm arms embracing him fondly. Allen could smell the person hugging him from behind. He—and didn't that body seem strong?—smelled clean and fresh.

"You aren't escaping our wonderful company today, Allen," Lavi told him pleasantly, almost sounding smug. He let go of Allen, and took his seat. Allen stared at him, not quite sure what to do. He was even more startled by the sound of other trays clattering down, and he found Road, Wisely, and the twins coming to join them.

"Hey Allen," Wisely began as he settled into his chair. He gathered one of the teeny tiny containers of food up. "I'm not a big fan of the fruits or vegetables here. Do you want mine?"

Taken aback by the offer, Allen nodded. Before he knew it, everyone had placed some item or another on his tray. Their willingness to share their lunch was touching. Allen was at a loss for words.

"Eat up," Road told him eagerly as she took up the veggie burger from her tray. "I've got some treats for you to try once you're done eating."

"Why not eat them now?" asked Jasper. Allen realized those were the first words he had heard either of the twins speak since second period. Guiltily, he wondered if maybe he had been a little too mean.

"Because the food would ruin the taste," Road replied, making a face at him as if to say _obviously_.

"Ooooh, you brought the good stuff," Lavi said with a bright smile. Wisely's eyes sharpened on his sister like a hawk. He looked tempted to pick the girl's pocket. That would be a feat in itself, considering the girl's uniform appeared to have pockets too small for practical uses.

 _Where is she keeping the candy_? Allen then wondered. He had certainly not seen a bag with her in the cafeteria. He glanced over her, pausing on her breasts. _Then again, I don't think I want to know_.

"That's the candy Sheryl brought back from Europe," Lavi said in a low voice, his breath whispering into Allen's ear. The boy shuddered, moving away almost at once. He tried to glare at Lavi, but was certain he failed at it. Lavi at least looked slightly guilty. "Sorry."

Allen turned away, focusing his attention back onto the conversation.

"If it's the chocolate, it's really good," David added, also looking really interested in Road—specifically where she was hiding it.

"You don't like sweets, do you?" Jasper asked, turning to look at Allen hopefully.

Of course I do," he replied, more than little amused. "I like to eat in general."

He began digging into his food now that the period for them to take back their food had passed. He decided to eat slowly, as he had yesterday at dinner. He wanted to seem normal, not like a vacuum cleaner that inhaled everything at once.

Last night had been successful. Today was not.

As he ate, he became aware of everyone watching him with unconcealed, unashamed awe.

"Woah, is that a magic trick or something?" asked David, his eyes wide. He squinted at Allen's face. "There's not even a crumb on your face!"

"You've got to be using sleight of hand," his twin agreed. As if of the same mind, Wisely glanced under the table briefly, then back up. He studied Allen, scrutinizing him. Road, however, thought it was cool.

"How are you doing that? Where do you put the food?" she asked excitedly.

Allen chuckled, amused that they thought he was a magician.

"In my stomach," he answered bluntly. To demonstrate, he took the apple Wisely had sacrificed to the pit of his stomach (he had already eaten the veggies) with exaggerated slowness. Now, Allen had never actually shown anyone his process of eating. He didn't really have the patience, and he didn't feel comfortable enough to do that with most people. He also did not realize that he had a few different ways of eating than other people. Firstly, he plucked the stem off. Secondly, he raised the apple to his mouth with mocking slowness. The second he opened his mouth, however, everything diverged.

"The hell?!" Lavi exclaimed, voicing everyone's shock as an entire apple was popped into Allen's mouth. "Did you unhinge your jaw or something?"

Allen then chewed in rapid succession, and in under five seconds he opened his mouth, _utterly devoid of food,_ to answer.

"I don't think so," he replied. "Why do you ask?"

"It isn't normal for someone to shove a whole apple in their mouth, especially not that size," Wisely informed him matter-of-factly.

"Well," Allen began, wondering if it was worth pointing out that it was normal for him. He wasn't sure it was worth the argument that would follow.

"Nor is it possible for a normal person to eat an apple of that size in such a short amount of time."

 _This know-it-all_ , Allen thought irritably. He was now wondering if it was alright to punch someone in the face if they had given him food. Wisely definitely deserved to be taken down a few notches. He could do it later. In Chemistry. Right now, food was more important.

::

 **Noah Manor, Utopia**

"What are they doing right now?" Earl asked Marian over the phone. He sat in his office, eyes continuously glancing towards the clock. The kids would be returning from school soon.

" _They have searched and searched, but there is no innocence left to be found. It looks like you truly destroyed all of it when you cursed the Black Order_ ," Marian answered. " _As we speak, they are trying to find you, and they plan to devise a method to kill witches and warlocks without innocence by the time they finally succeed in learning your whereabouts."_

"It cannot be done, unless by my hand, or my kin's," Earl responded. "They shall devise in vain. They cannot kill us, nor can they expect to win whatever battle they choose to fight."

" _If they find proof of your immortality, they may expose that to the world_ ," Marian warned him. Earl frowned. Yes, that would be a problem. Previously he had to worry about accusations causing witch hunts. Presently, people were less superstitious, and even promoted science over the idea of magic. If scientists caught wind of immortals, they would wonder _why_ , and _how can we live forever like them?_ A new, equally dangerous hunt would begin. Earl admitted he and his family could change their faces if they so chose to, or they could be reborn. But a Noah is not inhuman, and treasures his or her identity. Allen was a rare example of being reborn body and soul, but then he had been a new Noah entity and existed outside normal parameters. He would waken fully this time—Earl planned to make certain of it. Considering Allen's previous life, however, the Noah within no doubt suffered enough trauma to delay that awakening until the boy reached his twenties.

But back to the conversation.

"Yes, that would be problematic. I will have to come up with a way to prevent that," he said at last, somewhat distractedly. "What do they know of Allen?"

" _Nothing yet, although they are waiting for him to reincarnate like the other Exorcists_ ," Marian replied. Earl smiled grimly, remembering the curse he had cast so many centuries ago. He had never been so powerful before. Grief made him do things he had never thought himself capable of before. His curse tied the Exorcists to Allen, who would be born again. They all lived horrible lives after the witch trials—his curse ensured that. And while he gave them no troubles now, he made certain they remembered every pain. Perhaps it had been a blessing in disguise, a prophecy of hope for them…

 _Fear not, he will be born again._

 _Have courage, his accusers will answer._

 _Rejoice, the traitor will redeem himself._

But it was a curse that bound them. Earl intended to render all with pain and grief and guilt until they bowed beneath the weight. He imagined outwardly the people involved did not exhibit much of this. But in the dark, he would bet they wept and ached in their hearts. _That_ was his revenge.

"The Exorcists remember their pasts lives?" Earl asked lightly, already knowing the answer.

" _They do_ ," Marian confirmed.

"They deserve it," Earl told him. The General was quiet for a moment.

" _If Allen meets them, will he remember his past?"_ he wondered, voicing his worry at last.

"He may remember feelings, the emotions he associated with those people. Nothing more," Earl swore to him.

" _Allen cannot be allowed to remember_."

"It is our duty to keep him safe and happy in this life; do not worry. I intend to do this no matter how awful this war may become."

" _How is the brat doing, anyways?"_

Earl leaned back in his chair, breathing out through his nose solemnly.

"I suppose he is doing well. He didn't really come out of his room until he was certain that the others had left the house. He did seem to warm up to the others yesterday," he added, a hint of optimism in his voice.

" _Give him time. He doesn't trust easily. It will be a while before he is comfortable,"_ said Marian. " _When he shows you his rude side, then you will know he feels safe around you_."

"You know him quite well," Earl remarked. "You've really raised him with all of the intentions of a parent!"

" _What? Don't say that. You make it sound like I want to be a parent._ "

 _I am far from being a good man, let alone a good father_ , went unspoken between the two men.

"He misses you," Earl said, the words slipping out thoughtlessly. Marian paused, no doubt full of mixed feeling upon hearing _that_ confession.

" _I'll be back to see him in time for Christmas,_ " he said gruffly, his voice sounding suspiciously shaky. " _He will be fine until then. I taught him how to stand on his own two feet, after all."_

Smiling, Earl bid Marian Cross farewell. Down below, he could hear the beginnings of a fine ruckus as the children entered the mansion. Using this inhuman hearing, he listened to them file up to the Thinking Room for homework. He was relieved to hear Allen speak here and there. For the most part, the boy spoke sparingly and politely, but still it was improvement. Though a baby step, Earl felt as if Allen had taken a leap across a gorge.

As soon as everything quieted, Earl went out from the study, downstairs to check on them. He peeped into the Thinking Room, and his heart felt as if it might burst from happiness.

Allen sat comfortably on the floor between Wisely and Lavi, occasionally asking one or the other for help. It was a simple, mundane scene, it wasn't familial yet. Still, it was _real_ , and Allen did not look the slightest bit uncomfortable. Earl could not have imagined a more hopeful scene to spy on.

::

 **The Vatican's Disciples, Massachusetts**

"Have you found the Noahs yet, Komui?" the girl asked her brother. She adjusted her knee-high socks and the long skirt of her uniform. The picture of Catholic schoolgirl.

"No, not yet. We have a few leads, but we are not certain," Komui lied. He smiled as he took in his sister's appearance. The eleventh and twelfth graders wore a different uniform than the others, and today was her first day wearing it. He didn't like her wearing a skirt so much shorter, but at least it still went to her knees. Her hair was in pigtails still, but gone were the braids. "You look good."

She smiled, a shadow in her eyes. She didn't want to tell him that her new uniform reminded her of the one she wore in her past life. Those were dark, ugly times that she wished she could erase from her memories. Lenalee remembered every second in vivid detail. Her brother also remembered, but it was in bits and pieces. Considering the curse cast, it made sense. He had played a less involved, passive role in Allen's death, while she was the reason he had been killed. As a modern woman, she understood that war far better than the naïve, prejudiced girl who sentenced an innocent to death. She had been young then, and her young man had not quite understood the concept of war and killing until she was an active participant in it. She could not even begin to imagine how Allen must have felt. He had been fighting for years, a war veteran, by the time she began her training. And he had been younger than her. Then he had been burned to death because of her hate and cruelty. Lenalee remembered her abusive husband from her previous life. He like to beat her, and enjoyed sharing their bed even if she did not. She wondered…after the war crippled her…if that was the pain Allen had lived with all of his life, and how his death compared to what she had been put through. Lenalee couldn't take it for more than a few years. After ten years passed, she murdered her husband, and then killed herself.

"Go on, get to school," Komui urged her. His little sister was drawn from her dark contemplations, into the brighter world she now lived in. With a genuine smile, she threw her arms around her brother's neck and kissed his cheek.

"Bye!" she exclaimed, slinging a bag over her shoulder.

"And no kissing that boyfriend of yours!" he called after the girl. Her laughter followed her out of the house. Komui's smile fell once he was certain she was gone. The man opened his laptop, starting the necessary applications, organizing tabs and documents in preparation. Just as he finished, he saw someone was video-calling him. He accepted it.

"Komui here," he answered.

"Do you have anything to report?"

"All Exorcists of the last generation, with the exception of General Kanda Yuu, have been accounted for. Only those who were involved in the killing of Allen Walker retain their memories," he responded. "I would advise against recruiting the Exorcists who do not remember."

"And General Cross is the only General from that time period we know for certain has been reborn?"

"Yes," Komui affirmed. "We encountered Lavi and Bookman, but they claimed neutrality."

"Of course. Are you certain there has been no sign of Allen Walker?"

Komui shook his head. "Not yet. It is unclear whether he will be a Noah or an Exorcist. We are not even certain he had been or will be reborn at all."

"That is concerning. Have we identified the Noah family?"

"We have, but yet to find a location," Komui answered. "We have profiles on all of the members, but imagine they are lying low. If their location is found, how do we proceed? We know that they are well-known, and the public thinks positively of them."

"We proceed however we can. Another chance may not come along."

Komui nodded, Inside, he disagreed with the unspoken command to kill on sight. He had seen enough bloodshed. He was done with battles, and he did not want to put his sister back into a bloody war. He also knew that their side would lose this time. The Earl was always three steps ahead. He always knew how to attack them while minimizing the damage to his side and maximum damage to theirs. The Vatican believed God brought them back, memories and all, to win the unfinished war. Komui and the Exorcists knew it was, in fact, the Earl's curse, their punishment for killing Allen Walker. As if the destruction of innocence had not been enough—they dug their own graves by burning that boy alive. Allen Walker had been the Heart. Lavi had broken Allen's heart and trust, and they all betrayed him. They shattered Allen, the Heart, to pieces, and burned him until all evidence was naught but ashes. They destroyed the innocence all by themselves. Komui readily admitted that humanity was made of destroyers. He could only hope that this curse could become a blessing and teach destroyers who could also _save_.

"May I request an audience with them?" Komui asked. He hoped beyond hope that they might let them follow a path other than violence and bloodshed. "Perhaps we could broker a peace between us, or play a war game to settle things."

"What are you _saying_? We do not deal with those—"

"We have a disadvantage," Komui interrupted softly. "You and I both know that we cannot, logically, win a war. Our numbers are too few, we have no weapons killing Noahs. There are even open followers of the Earl these days, like the Wiccan, who are accepted enough not to be persecuted."

He saw the face of his superior and decided to speak frankly.

"I am sick of all of this _bloodshed_. Surely they are too," he persisted.

A measure of silence fell.

"Alright. If it is possible, and they agree, do it."

::

 **Campbell Academy for the Gifted, Utopia, September 16, 20XX**

Allen was surprised at how quickly he adapted. By the time Friday came, school was not so bad. He realized that he was not the only one who needed to adjust to the change. His relatives also had no idea how to treat him, and just as Allen learned when and when not to trust/take words to heart/ignore/many other verbs concerning annoying relatives, _they_ learned how not to push his boundaries, and most importantly, _when_ not to push them.

The twins remained unforgivably devious and Wisely was still obnoxious—Allen learned to tolerate them by Friday. Eventually he accepted Road's hugs after the hundredth one given (Thursday evening), and admitted to himself that physical forms of affection were somewhat pleasant. And Lavi was an _angel_ compared to the others. Even if he could be a little too enthusiastic and rambunctious. And he enjoyed pranking people a tad too much.

Everything, while not perfect, had become tolerable. He even sat with everyone during lunch; well, those who had the same lunch hour as he did.

"This weekend, we are having a sleepover," Road informed Allen as she settled down next to him. From her tray, she picked out the sides she knew he liked and handed them over to Allen without fanfare. As an afterthought, she also gave him her milk carton.

"How is it a sleepover?" asked Lavi, already half-way done with his food. "I mean, don't we all live together…?"

The girl resolutely ignored him. Wisely, however, explained it to him.

"It's because the band gets together for a party, and then everyone sleeps together in the same room," Wisely explained. "We may all live together, but we don't party every day. We also don't share a room every weekend either. Except for the twins."

"There is that," Lavi admitted thoughtfully. To Allen, he said, "Wisely doesn't usually do much with us during 'sleepovers'. A lot of the time the others are noisy, and he often gets migraines, so he keeps to himself."

"Can I also stay in my room?" Allen requested hopefully. He was slowly coming to accept his family and could even say he might grow to like some of them; that did not mean he wanted to 'party' with them or otherwise socialize with them more than he already was. He had only done crazy things with Narain, who had convinced (forced) him to join him on crazy adventures that gave him the most wonderful adrenaline rushes. Without someone like that now, someone he _trusted_ , Allen saw no point in participating.

"Oh, no, we will both be forced to join since it's your first weekend with us," Wisely informed him, looking less than impressed at the prospect of something migraine-inducing to look forward to over his supposed period to relax.

"Don't worry, this weekend will be tame," Road promised him. "We are watching the last few episodes of last season's _Crowd Surfing_. We will also play a couple of games, or do karaoke. Maybe both. "

Allen briefly wondered why anyone would throw 'untame' parties. It wasn't like any of them could go buy alcohol in America. Though considering the number of times Narain nicked some, he supposed it wouldn't be a surprise if the others did the same.

"We don't have homework time on Friday?" Allen asked curiously.

"Well, we do," answered Road. "But afterwards, we have free time. We use that time to celebrate. Since it's your first weekend, we'll party hard on Friday. I think Earl wants to take you shopping Saturday."

"We should practice our song on Saturday while they're gone," Lavi suggested. "Then Sunday, we perform it."

"That's a great idea!" Road praised. Allen recalled their band and their previous attempt to greet him with a song. He hoped the one called _Crashed_ would be okay, but he wasn't sure about how these next few songs would go. He wasn't a part of the band; maybe he could skip out on their practices. Even if they weren't saying it, but somehow implying he was invited—required?—at their practice on Sunday.

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea," said Allen slowly. Then he wondered how many songs they even had to practice with.

"Don't worry, we won't sing a 'creepy' song," Lavi assured him mockingly, using quotation marks with his fingers. Allen made no further comment, and decided to devour his food before it could get too cold.

"I'll never get used to that," Lavi remarked, his green eye watching the way food disappeared into Allen's mouth. He wondered if the boy was using magic.

After lunch, Allen went to Kanda's art class in a much better mood than usual. They were done with watercolors now (Allen was glad; Earl may not have minded all of the shirts he had ruined with the paints, but the boy certainly hated the idea of someone else paying for his messes). Instead, they were going over a new unit: shading. Allen liked using both hands to write and paint and draw, but in this unit he found one hand shaded horribly and the other could not 'shade' any more lightly than a dark scribble. Kanda made comments about it during class, but his dark eyes were undoubtedly amused every time he glanced over at Allen's attempts. Allen was a little irritated by that amusement, but he did his best not to take any offense. Kanda was blunt and never hid what he thought; Allen both appreciated and admired that trait. He always wore a mask and shielded himself from other people. Kanda, on the other hand, bravely wore his heart and thoughts on his face. They just so happened to be negative, for the most part. It worked well enough as a defense.

Kanda walked around the tables, looking over his students' shoulders. He paused by Allen. The boy resisted the urge to look up with a challenging gaze.

"Ugly, isn't it?" he asked lightly, doing his best to shade the circle—the attempts certainly did not make it look the sphere he was going for. It was a circle. A very dark circle.

"Very," Kanda agreed. Feeling disheartened, Allen sighed and pushed the paper away.

Allen decided to linger after class. He knew Kanda didn't mind a short chat, and would likely write him a note for his next class. He considered making this a habit, because he certainly didn't want to leave the sanctuary he found in Kanda's class.

Allen took his time packing up when the bell rang. Once the other students filtered out, he initiated a conversation.

"Do you know about these sleepovers?" he asked.

"Of course," Kanda replied. He grimaced, picking ebony pencils off of the floor. "I am forced to attend these foolish 'sleepovers', because it is considered 'band binding time'."

Allen immediately felt bad for him. Kanda, though a young teacher, was still several years older than everyone. It was probably torturous for him to spend so much time around such annoying teenagers, especially when he so clearly preferred to be alone most of the time.

"Tonight will not be too wild," Kanda promised, misinterpreting the twist of Allen's face. "We already discussed it."

Allen started. "What? When?"

"In our group message," the teacher replied simply. "All the band members are in it. We thought we could watch re-runs of _Crowd Surfing_ , maybe the finals of last season. Next season is the last one, so we want to marathon it. Depending on what we do, there may also be some video games."

"Oh," was all Allen could think of to say. Those things didn't sound too bad. Much better than karaoke, at least.

"Don't worry, it won't be too torturous," Kanda said, all too understanding of Allen's tendency to be somewhat reclusive. Allen nodded, and pulled his bag on his shoulder. He waited for Kanda to write him a note for his next class. He accepted the note with a murmur of thanks.

::

 **Noah Manor, Utopia**

"They want to meet with you," General Cross warned Earl over the phone. "Komui has been pushing a diplomatic approach. He will soon contact you."

"Is it genuine?" asked Earl.

"Yes, Komui is tired of war, and repenting. He knows they cannot win on fair ground either."

Earl was quiet, pleased to hear of the man's suffering. He was also pleased to know that Komui did not want war anymore than Earl did; at least the moral man had remained level-headed throughout the reincarnation process.

"What do you think he will propose?" Earl wanted to know. He could not see Komui's supervisors supporting a truce. They were pigheaded and could not, for lack of more graceful phrasing, pull their heads far enough out of their asses to see reason.

"He may suggest a new kind of warfare, something less lethal. Perhaps a wargame," Cross replied. Earl drew in a breath, releasing it.

"I will also try to think of alternatives," he said at last. "Komui is usually a reasonable man. I think we may reach an accord."

"Understood."

"And give Allen a shout, yes? He misses you," Earl added.

"It hasn't even been a week," Cross pointed out. "Isn't it risky?"

"Even an email will do," he responded. Cross agreed, and they ended the call. Earl sat at the desk, his fingers rolling against the wooden surface in a rhythmic drum. He was deeply concerned. Komui might share his hopes for a bloodless war, they might even be able to create a peace treaty. Unfortunately, Komui only wielded so much power and influence.

Earl's eyes glowed yellow as he used he stirred his magic into awakening for usage.

"Lavi," he said, voice carrying into Lavi's mind despite the distance between them.

 _Yes?_ Lavi answered.

"How is Allen doing?"

 _He's fine. I think Kanda cheered him up. Is something wrong, Earl?_ Asked Lavi, his emotions brushing across Earl's through their mental link.

"No. I simply felt a little anxious. Are you all done with homework?"

 _Yes. We are eating a snack, then we will perform our song for him_.

"And afterwards, what will you do?" the man asked.

 _Watch television._ ** _Crowd Surfing_** _has reruns. At midnight they'll reveal this season's special twist._

Earl wasn't particularly interested in that, but he felt like he needed to take a break for the day.

"Do you mind if I join all for a little while?"

 _No, not at all_ , Lavi replied.

Earl's eyes faded back to a normal color and he went across the observatory into the music room, trying to force his mind to relax and be at ease while he waited for them to arrive. Kanda was already present—he had given the Millennium Earl a small, respectful nod to acknowledge his entrance—but he was more focused on tuning his instrument. It was just as well. Kanda was a man of few words, though he had mellowed in modern times.

It didn't take much longer for the rabble to enter, coming in a loud wave; full of chatter and youthful energy. As soon as the first trio came in, they walked past Earl, and then when they realized he was there, the patriarch found himself crushed under the weight of a set of twins and Road. He groaned and pretended that they were suffocating (though as an immortal, it really wouldn't have killed him if they were too heavy). Earl continued to groan and wheeze and protest. The others came in, chuckling at the sight, or in Allen's case, looking horrified.

"Earl?" the white-haired boy asked uncertainly. The trio took that moment to climb off of him so that they could prepare to perform. Allen moved to take a seat next to Earl. "Are you alright?"

Touched by the concern the shy boy was showing, Earl smiled warmly.

"I'm fine," he assured Allen, straightening his attire. "See?"

Allen's gaze looked relieved. He turned his attention to the band, the group members situating themselves, experimentally testing the sounds of their instruments, tuning when necessary. While his gaze and mind were elsewhere, he did not notice the way his body slowly gravitated towards Earl's. But Earl _did_ notice, mostly because he felt the warmth of Allen's shoulder against his after a few minutes. Simply that unconscious display of trust and contentment eased some of his tension. Really, it did wonders to him, knowing that Allen was becoming comfortable here.

"Are we ready?" Kanda asked impatiently, glancing back at them. Once a general consensus had been met amongst the band members, everyone got into place. Lavi and Tyki argued over who could use the real microphone and who would have to use none—eventually all was settled.

"Are you ready for the song we made for your welcoming?" Lavi asked through the microphone (to his pride's injury, it had been pointed out Tyki had the louder voice).

"You take forever," Allen responded, his eyes teasing. It was not expected, how much of his true self he was showing to them.

"Alright you guys," Lavi said, nodding to the band. "Three! Two! One!"

He brought the microphone to his lips.

" _Well I was moving at the speed of sound._

 _Head spinning, couldn't find my way around, and_

 _Didn't know I was going down,_ " he sang out, exhibiting more control over his voice than Allen expected. Here, Tyki joined in the song.

" _Yeah, yeah,_ " they sang together. Tyki lowered his voice until he and Lavi were singing in perfect sync with each other. Allen watched their expressions as they moved into what he was certain would be the chorus. Tyki's eyes were closing, but Lavi's…bore right into him.

" _And then I crashed into you,_

 _And I went up in flames._

 _Could've been the death if me_ ," he sang. Allen, once more, could not look away. Distantly he wished Lavi did not have this kind of power. " _But then you breathed your breath in me._ "

Allen felt it, that unbearable pain in his chest, sharp enough to make his breath catch and tears well up into his eyes.

" _Then I crashed into you,_

 _Like a runaway train,_

 _You will consume me,_

 _But I can't walk away,_ " they sang together again, and Lavi turned his gaze away. Allen drew in a shaky breath in relief.

" _Somehow I couldn't stop myself  
I just wanted to know how it felt  
Too strong, I couldn't hold on, yeah, yeah  
Now I'm just tryin' to make some sense  
Out of how and why this happened  
Where we're headed  
There's just no knowin', yeah, yeah_."

Allen knew that Lavi would once more cast him under an inexplicable spell. He had no wish to repeat that pain, and sensation of utter hopelessness. So he cast his eyes upon Tyki instead.

Lavi's eyebrows knit into a frown when he noticed this.

" _And then I crashed into you  
And I went up in flames  
Could've been the death of me  
But then you breathed your breath in me  
Then I crashed into you  
Like a runaway train  
You will consume me  
But I can't walk away."_

Tyki and Lavi glanced at each other, a brief moment where they silently communicated with each other. In that moment, Allen saw the light hit Tyki's eyes strangely, and they flashed gold. Then the moment was gone.

The next part they sung almost too softly, and it was like a caress to the ears; a caress that touched Allen's heart.

" _Your face, your eyes,_

 _Are burnt into me,_ " and here their voices grew louder and more powerful.

 _You save me you gave me_

 _Just what I need_

 _Oh just what I need!_

 _And then I crashed into you  
And I went up in flames  
Could've been the death of me  
But then you breathed your breath in me  
Then I crashed into you  
Like a runaway train  
You will consume me  
But I can't walk away."_

By now, Allen was certain the song was almost over because they were picking up a powerful momentum. It stirred something in his heart, hearing, feeling, seeing music being made. As it always did.

Tyki and Lavi drew in their breaths to carry off the last of the song—and did their voices sound ever so powerful and strong.

" _Then I crashed into you  
And then I crashed into you  
And then I crashed into you  
And then I crashed into you  
Then I crashed into you  
Like a runaway train  
You will consume me  
But I can't walk away,"_ they finished. Lavi's voice was almost wistful, and Tyki sounded almost aggressive. They worked together so perfectly, Allen was almost envious.

The last notes of the song died, Allen and Earl rose to their feet to applaud them. Allen's eyes were bright from both the excitement and emotion he could not explain. The uncomfortable feelings Lavi's gaze had brought forgotten, he was in awe. Earl watched Allen from the corner of his eye as discretely as possible. He had noticed the moment between Allen and Lavi, and felt deeply conflicted. Kanda was also gazing between them, the emotion there dark and unhappy. Luckily Allen was oblivious to all of this. Even if he had noticed, he did not understand the history between these three men; he would be unable to interpret the way the shadows of the heart colored their eyes.

Allen's laughter shook out unhappy thoughts, and Earl relaxed himself to watch the boy congratulate them on a success in impressing him. If he looked carefully, he was almost certain he could find an observable longing in Allen to join them in their music making.

"That was amazing! I loved it!" he said, going towards the group. For a brief moment his, his gaze met Lavi's. A shudder ran down his spine, but he could not look away. His heart thumped in his heart, as if trying to burst out.

 ** _Warm lips, formed in a way that felt strange, because the kiss had been unexpected. The scent of skin and ink. It was not a perfect kiss, nor anything earthshattering. Worst of all, it tasted bittersweet like dark chocolate._**

 ** _And Allen feared he would crave these lips till he died. No matter how it hurt nor what it tasted of._**

Allen's cheeks warmed slightly and he glanced away, wondering where the sensation had come from. The feeling of lips against his, a perfect kiss that broke his heart. Like a memory he could not grasp.

Luckily Road came over to him to give him a hug. He accepted it. Lavi watched him, feeling both hope and confusion at whatever had passed between them. Kanda glanced over at the redhead, his jaw tightening. He could see from the softness in Lavi's face that something was blossoming in the man's breast. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Lavi had hurt Allen horrifically in the past, and in Kanda's opinion, the red-head did not deserve to love Allen or receive the boy's affection. But Kanda had lived before, and knew this was a decision not to be made by him.

Little did he know that Earl was watching Lavi with a similar frame of mind. He wondered if he should step in, or leave it alone.

"Alright, let's go downstairs to watch _Crowd Surfing_!" Devitt shouted. Laughing, the flood of teenagers left the room, Allen more carried off than led by the twins. Tyki followed with the excuse that _someone_ needed to watch them. Alone, three stood in the music room with a somber atmosphere surrounding them. As usual, Kanda wasted no time speaking his mind.

"You were singing to Allen," he said bluntly.

"He is the one who changed my life," Lavi replied. "Besides, I know you love him."

"Firstly, I _know my place_. Secondly, I never hid my feelings from Allen. He always knew I loved him. But that's neither here nor there, because our issue concerns the fact he is not the same Allen we knew, and he doesn't remember anything that we do," Kanda said waspishly, feeling both angry and sad. He still hated Lavi for the pain he had purposely caused Allen, and for the lack of action to save Allen. Unfortunately, relationships are complicated, and time forced Kanda to grudgingly accept Lavi as a (loosely using the term) friend. They had too much history to be something less, and something more. The term "frienemy" definitely described their situation.

"What do you mean, _know my place_?" Lavi demanded.

"I am, and will forever be his friend first," Kanda told him unwaveringly. "I am not here to develop a relationship with him. I am here to give him happiness and safety. As you should be."

Lavi' fire died with him as he realized Kanda had a good point. A very good point.

"Lavi, what you feel belongs to you. But do not forget that we cannot push Allen into anything. He is young and in no position to pursue a relationship with anyone, let alone people he knew in a past life," the Earl spoke. "Regardless of all else, we have a duty to nurture and protect him. That duty becomes before anything else. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Lavi said softly, recalling how love had once made him selfish and eventually cruel.

"Allen's well-being is our first priority," Kanda added gruffly. "Whatever occurs between him and anyone else is _his_ choice. But romance is not something _we_ initiate."

"I understand," Lavi reiterated. He reminded himself that this was fair. Allen was a wounded soul. In any other circumstance, you would approach such a person with caution and great consideration towards that person. One false move might shatter—

"Allen comes first," Lavi said, because even if he did not owe Allen a great deal (and he did), Allen needed it. And besides, what did he know of love? He was not ready to give Allen the love he deserved.

Earl walked over to the red-head, putting his hands on the slumped shoulders.

"Remember this, Lavi," he urged. The red-head nodded. Earl gave him a kind smile, patting the shoulders for a moment. "Come. Let's go downstairs."

Lavi followed the Noah patriarch down the stairs. Kanda lingered a moment, thinking of Allen's expression and reaction to Lavi. He resolutely pushed any thoughts of jealousy out of his mind, because it really didn't matter if Allen fell for Lavi (yet again), before joining everyone else in the Game Room.

The sight of everyone pulling out blankets and pillows to create a large pallet over the floor in front of the television. Road had laid out the base structure, taking two Queen-sized comforters. The twins quickly returned with two more to layer on top of that. Allen came into the room with his pillows and the soft blanket he kept under the comforter in his room. Tyki did much the same, but of course it looked more ridiculous to see and adult do the same thing.

"Alright, get your stuff and get your pajamas on," the elder man ordered. He gestured for Lavi to get a move on, then looked towards Kanda. "We haven't washed your clothes yet, so you can borrow some of mine."

"Thanks," the art teacher said drily. Tyki waved him off in the direction of his room.

"You know where my stuff's at."

Kanda reluctantly left.

Once everyone was changed and settled, they turned on the T. V. Allen had taken the edge of the pallet, Road pressed against his side (though Wisely promised to switch places with her when she fell asleep). Tyki and Kanda sat between the twins as a barrier, and Lavi was on the opposite edge.

"So this is a talent show?" Allen asked, waiting for a commercial to end. Really, an hour show was only forty minutes long, and twenty minutes of advertisements.

"For bands," Road corrected. "It's been running for ten years, but the last season will pick up this year. We are watching some of the re-runs, a compilation of the best performances and auditions."

Allen hummed thoughtfully. But then the commercial ended and all thoughts were cast aside in favor of seeing what this show was about.

"Hi, I'm Suman, your host for _Crowd Surfing_ ," the person greeted. "Welcome to season four…"

They watched, enraptured by the amazing auditions and performances; not to mention the criticisms that followed.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, put your hands together for Karma and the Crows!"

The band walked out onto the stage to the sounds of a whole concert hall cheering, dressed in their best costumes yet. Road leaned over to Allen.

"This is Kanda's favorite performance, and his favorite band," she whispered.

Allen glanced at his art teacher, smiling when he saw the way Kanda was attentively watching the screen.

 ** _Did you have a sweetheart?_**

 ** _Her name was Alma._**

Allen's breath caught as the words formed in his mind.

"Are you ready?" Alma Karma shouted into the microphone. The crowd roared. He grinned. "This is our thanks to you, to all of you, who support us. We dedicate this song to you."

The cheering continued as the lights dimmed in preparation of their final performance. It continued for a full minute before all fell silent. Then a low blue light slowly illuminated the stage.

The guitar began, then the drums, and it was _good_.

" _Load up on guns  
Bring your friends  
It's fun to lose and to pretend  
She's overboard, self assured  
Oh no I know, a dirty word_

 _Hello, hello, hello, how low_

 _Hello, hello, hello_ ," Alma began in a calm voice. Then he _sang_ and his voice became rougher than Allen had heard before in any of the other songs.

" _With the lights out, it's less dangerous  
Here we are now, entertain us  
I feel stupid and contagious  
Here we are now, entertain us  
A mulatto, an Albino  
A mosquito, my libido, yeah_."

Allen could see why they were liked. It was a good song, and they were killing it. He understood now why the judges had mentioned their potential being their biggest weapon. Allen would never have expected Alma to be able to pull off a voice like that at the beginning of the show. But he had grown.

At the height of the roar and applause, Karma took the microphone, singing his heart out. He sang and sang, approaching the edge of the stage. Then in a moment of pure trust, he turned his back and threw himself onto the crowd. The crowd caught him, and it was a success for them all. During his entire surf, Karma didn't stumble or falter once in his song, and one by one the band took leaps into the crowd.

"And the band has done it!" Suman shouted, his eyes bright with excitement. "They have done! They've won!"

Allen was grinning too, feeling the contagious joy. It _had_ been a journey, and something was undeniably satisfying to see the people he had watched grown as musicians succeed so well.

Allen and his family continued to watch the show, enjoying the highs and lows, the endless drama, the _love_. The twist that was supposed to be unveiled was not, and everyone gave up on trying to stay awake. Sometime in the wee hours of morning, Earl came in to turn off the T.V. now that everyone was asleep. He smiled down at the children, his heart swelling with pure adoration for each and every one—including the grumpy one who was even scowling in his sleep.

He paused to watch the closing announcement, since he wondered what was so likeable about this show.

"Thank you all for your support over the years," Suman said, looking quite moved. "We only have one last season to go, and I hope it will be a fantastic one. So don't let this opportunity pass you by. _Win._ "

Earl smiled in amusement, crossing his arms.

"This is a battlefield," Suman continued, his words suddenly sparking something in the Millennium Earl's mind. "It is rough, and the competition is always strong, and only the best can win. But if you believe in yourself, you may find something in yourself that wasn't there before. Have some courage and step into this musical warzone!"

Earl's mind was turning wheels.

 _Is this fate?_ He wondered.

::

 **The Vatican's Disciples, Massachusetts**

"Brother, look what we have," Lenalee said excitedly, showing him the flier in her hand, and the application she had picked up that day. Komui took both, looking over the top of the flier.

 _Crowd Surfing._

The application was for a band tryout.

In his mind an idea, a very very ludicrous idea, formed.

::

 **Noah Manor, Utopia, September 17, 20XX**

 ** _He stood in the doorway, examining the door's frame. His hair was bright red, his eyes bright green. He was fair. And so handsome. In the gloomy place of Komui's grim home, this stranger made everything seem like a haven. He was beautiful. He was like a star, no, like the moon on a dark night. Or perhaps as brilliant as the sun itself. Allen only knew that he had fallen in love at first sight._**

 ** _The feeling of love was light as air, yet it made his chest swell to the point he felt as if he could not breathe. It made him feel happy and confident. All of the worries he had before could be laid to rest in light of this newcomer, for he made all of it seem insignificant._**

Allen awoke, the lingering emotions in his chest making his heart ache. He dashed away the tears with a frown. He wasn't sure what to make of the dream, but decided it lit a fire, a spark of inspiration, and causes didn't really matter. He was full of emotion and words—in that moment, he was filled with _music_.

He left the pallet, dragging himself from Wisely. He quietly crept up to the music room for music sheets clean of on other works. As he reached for it, he caught sight of the binders the band used. Allen hesitantly pulled his hand from the sheets and instead pulled out one of the binders. It was a simple black binder with a painting of nature on the cover. It also read, _Book of Songs_. He traced the letters, realizing that perhaps he _did_ want to be a part of the band. Maybe deep down, he wanted a way to express himself.

Allen took the binder and the blank music sheets. He set himself in the observatory by the window. With the light of the rising sun he worked on the newborn song being brought to life.

He did not know it, but Lavi silently walked up the stairs, having been woken by a nightmare of the past. The young man stayed for a while to watch Allen work, admiring the curve of his face, the concentration, and the sun's illumination of his skin.

:

:

 **Songs used:**

 ** _Crashed_** **, by Daughtry**

 ** _Smells Like Teen Spirits_** **, by Nirvana**

 **Thank you for your support and reviews! The really do help whenever I lose my way in remembering why I continue to write. To put it in words sweet enough to rot your teeth, reading reviews about how much you enjoy something makes me feel happy and all of those warm fuzzy feelings :D**

 **So I thank you!**


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